


Wooing The Trickster.

by teofse



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Humor, M/M, Out Of Character Loki, Out of character Tony Stark, Romance, WIP, Wooing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:10:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 80,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teofse/pseuds/teofse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Get ready to be swept off your feet, Loki of Asgard, because my fucking heart has finally found its match, and I'm afraid it's you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Title** **:** **Wooing The Trickster.**

**Author** **:** Teofse

**Rating** **:** G

**Pairing** **:** Loki/Tony

**Genre** **:** Slash. Romance. Humor.

**Word** **Count** **:** **?**

**Warnings** **:** None. Unbetaed.

**Disclaimer** **:** Don't own these characters. No money is being made out of this work.

**Summary** **:** “ Get ready to be swept off your feet , Loki of Asgard, because my fucking heart has finally found its match, and I'm afraid it's you.”  
  
 **Wooing The Trickster.**

 

Trying to get into Loki's scorching-hot leather pants was frustrating beyond measure. The guy not only exuded that I'm-way-too-cool-to-fuck-a-mere-mortal attitude like a high-end perfume, he was also an all or nothing sort of dude. He either hated you with every breath he took or tried to deny that he'd grown used to loving so fucking hard that he'd ended up shattering like glass every time he'd been betrayed in the past. _'_ _How could anyone who know_ _s_ _him_ _ever mistake_ _Loki's heartbreak for real hatred?_ _His emotions are plastered_ _all over_ _his eyes for everyone to see._ _You are such a_ _bl_ _ind_ _idiot, Thor.'_

It had been as easy as pie for Tony to see past the familiar blank mask the Trickster wore so well. He understood the God's self-despised emotional neediness too fucking much to remain as detached as he'd have liked to be. He'd always had the same tendencies. The same cravings. The same terrifying desire to give everything he's ever been or will eventually become to someone, anyone, who could possibly come close to understanding him -and yes, that definitely included every single fucked-up part of himself.-

He'd been searching all his life for that special someone who could love his darkness just as much as everyone else wanted to love his light. He'd been waiting for that frankly elusive 'someone' who was meant to come into his life one day and not only be able, but also willing, to put up with all his bullshit without trying to change every unpleasant little quirk of his selfish nature. He'd waited for someone he could claim and who would claim him in return. Someone he could belong to without any restraints. Someone willing to catch him, willing to bring him back to safety every time he fell.

After working with the irritatingly reserved Frost-Giant/Asgard's-kickass-sorcerer-prince for two years, as part of the 'light punishment' that daddy-dearest had imposed on his baby boy after the New York debacle, Tony had come to the conclusion that Loki Odinson could very easily become his very own 'someone', if only he could convince the bloody idiot to look his way for a second.

The problem with that was that the gorgeous bastard had some sort of tunnel vision when it came to understanding how normal people interacted with one another. He either knew you existed or he didn't. And the fact that the guy he had the uber-mushy girly hots for was the one creature currently on Earth who seemed pretty much immune to the 'Stark Charm' was driving Tony up the wall.

He gritted his teeth as the object of his unfortunately more-than-lustful affections took one thoroughly unimpressed look at the first magic-compatible Stark phone he'd ever designed before placing it back in it's box with a small moue of disgust.  _'Ok._ _So h_ _aving this emotionally stunted jerk_ _dismiss the awesome tech_ _you_ _'ve_ _spent six months developing for his benefit hurts like a bitch,_ _but you already knew_ _this could happen_ _, Tony_ _. This guy can crush your heart without even meaning to,_ _so p_ _lay it cool, man. Play it real cool._ _'_

“What possible use could I have for your little Midgardian toys, Stark? I'm already being forced to live in your tower so that S.H.I.E.L.D can find me without going to the trouble of seeking me out, and it isn't as if I have a long list of mortal acquaintances to share irritatingly vacuous conversations with.”

Tony's fists itched to punch the bastard's nose almost as strongly as his lips tingled with the urgent desire to kiss that maddeningly disdainful smirk right off his face. He'd be willing to bet that the shock of finding himself on the receiving end of the kind of soul-sucking smooch Tony wanted to plant on his godly-lips would be enough to melt that irritating derision right off Loki's unfairly gorgeous features.  
  
Maybe he should go ahead and do just that. It'd be wonderfully satisfying to bash that infuriatingly oblivious head with the clue-club of undeniable realization once and for all. Yeah, he'd definitely feel better about this mess if he made a grab for more, instead of forcing himself to take all this bullshit on the chin like a good little mortal.

“You don't do this very often, do you, Reindeer?” He asked with as much mocking sweetness as he could possibly muster while his heart pounded a mile a minute in reaction to the sheer madness of what he was girding his loins to say with his next breath.

Loki frowned, clearly puzzled by the unexpected question.  
“Do what?”

“This. Receive a gift from someone who doesn't want a fucking thing from you besides attention.”

“I'm not in the habit of indulging attention seekers.”

Tony had to smile at the huffy tone. Loki's attempt at denying the obvious was pretty adorable, even if his claim was so clearly fake that it wasn't all that funny.  
“You mean you are not in the habit of indulging anyone because nobody has ever bothered to cosy up to you, don't you?”

“I will not tolerate your disrespect, Stark!” Loki hissed, gorgeous green eyes narrowed to convey so much offended indignation that Tony's foolish heart all but melted in the face of the God's pointless posturing.

“I like you, cupcake. I know it sounds sudden, but... you are a really hard God to worship. I've been trying for a while. A ridiculously long while, to be honest. Did you know that nothing works with you?"  
  
"I don't understand.”  
  
"You thought the chocolates I sent you were poisoned and used the mindbogglingly expensive flowers I had delivered to your room for that magical mumbo-jumbo potion nonsense of yours. Don't even try to deny it, perfect lips, because J.A.R.V.I.S told me everything you did to those fragile little petals."  
  
"What on Midgard...?"  
  
"And don't even get me started on all my carefully planned oh-so-casual invitations out for a drink or two. What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? Just because we work together doesn't mean that every time I suggest going out for a pint I'm giving you leeway to turn my relaxing afternoon off into some sort of creepy team-bonding exercise with the entire Avenger crew."  
  
"Shield brothers always drink together in Asgard, Stark."  
  
"Newsflash: we are not in Asgard and I'm not your brother in any shape or form, Bambi. I'm just a guy. A regular, horny guy who has been trying every trick in the book to get to first base with you for eighteen months, man!"   
  
"Excuse me?"

“No excusing allowed. I'm totally pissed off, OK? For all that cunning cleverness is supposed to be your middle name you are annoyingly thick about anything that's even remotely related to sexy times, hot stuff. I'm gonna stop the subtlety crap altogether and come right at you. I'll do it with bells on and everything. It'll be awesome.”

"Bells? What bells? Why must you speak in such infuriating riddles? I can't make sense of a single thing you are saying.”

“We should hook-up, gorgeous. That's the nutshell version of my speech.”

Loki gaped like a landed fish and took two hasty steps backwards, clearly trying to decide whether he was being pranked or Tony had genuinely lost all his marbles.  
“Are you mad?” The God hissed, halfway between genuinely incredulous and positively incensed.

Tony's chocolate-brown eyes glinted with purpose and he smirked with savage satisfaction as soon as he saw the trickster's pale face blush in flustered reaction to the blatant leer he threw his way.  
“Yes, Reindeer. I'm crazy. I'm God-dammed, stark raving mad about you, babe, and I'm seriously planning to charm those leather pants right off you.”

The sorcerer looked more than merely shocked. He'd clearly been rendered speechless by Tony's little announcement and wasn't going to be able to keep ignoring his existence from now on, even if he tried. 

“You wish to bed me?” Loki scoffed after spending an entire minute glaring at him with affronted indignation. “You are even more arrogant than I gave you credit for if you honestly believe I'd ever spread my legs for you, mortal.”

Tony shrugged carelessly and blew him a cheeky kiss, just to see him squirm with embarrassment like a flustered virgin.  
“I'm more arrogant than that, princess. I don't want to simply 'bed' you, as you so charmingly put it. I want the whole shebang. I'm aiming for the entire wildly passionate, heart-pounding, extraordinary love of the ages scenario."  
  
"That's perfectly ridic..."  
  
"I want the kind of romantic KABOOM! that could burn the hearts of ordinary people into dust because I simply refuse to settle for something as mediocre as empty lust. I played that game already and it was soulless. So here's your fair warning, gorgeous: I really, really, like you. I think we'd be as close to perfect together as either of us can get. So get ready to be swept off your feet, Loki of Asgard, because my fucking heart has finally found its match and I'm afraid it's you.”

 

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

****Chapter 2.** **

“I'd say it's pretty obvious by now that we've spooked the reindeer, J.A.R.V.I.S.”  Tony muttered dejectedly as he spotted his crush's gorgeously slender form slinking down the corridor as fast as his amazingly long legs could take him.

“ _We_ , Sir?” The A.I inquired testily, saccharine-sweet sarcasm dripping off those two words in a way that would have had Tony laughing his head off, if he wasn't quite so annoyed with the entire Scorching-Hot-God-Currently-Avoiding-Him-Like-The-Plague thing.

“Don't give me sass or I'll do something so unspeakable to your motherboard that you'll finally start experiencing human-like nightmares, Jeeves.”

Blessed silence reigned after that uncharacteristically mean comment and Tony rolled his shoulder in a sharp and tense motion, feeling even more frustrated for having won such petty battle when what he really, really, wanted was a sympathetic ear to bounce off his crazy wooing ideas.  
“You shouldn't have let me tell him to his face how much I fancy him.  He's always been impossible to pin down but his past efforts where a walk in the park to get around when compared to _this_.  We've gone from 30% non-Avengers' related Sex-God sightings to 0.01% and that's just—absolutely unacceptable, Jarvs.  How can I charm the little bastard if I never even see him?”

The A.I took so long to answer him that Tony became uncomfortably certain that he'd wounded each and every one of the feelings J.A.R.V.I.S wasn't supposed to have.  
“I doubt calling him 'a little bastard' in the middle of the corridor is helping your case, Sir.”

Tony rubbed the back of his neck and sighed loudly, trying to hide his relief from his ever-perceptive creation, even though he was reasonably certain the blasted thing was probably measuring his vitals all the way down to his bowel movements and rejoicing in each and every little sign of relieved contrition that his traitorous body was undoubtedly betraying.  
“He's not _here_ , Hot Shot.  It doesn't matter what I call him when he isn't around to hear it.”

“Just because you can't see him doesn't mean he isn't around, Sir.” The A.I countered with his perfectly snobbish British accent, making Tony go cold with the most terrible dread and jump around in a wide circle, scanning the seemingly empty corridor with widened brown eyes.

“Is he here, right now?  Please, Oh, please, tell me you are the world's first robotic douchebag and you're trying to trick your maker into a nasty heart attack.  It will suck so badly if he's here right now.  You've got to tell me he's not here, J.A.R.V.I.S.”

“Even though my sensors can not perceive his presence in the corridor at this point, I do not have enough data to guarantee that Mr. Odinson didn't hear your comment.  There is no way of telling what his magic could allow him to perceive, if he were inclined to snoop, Sir.  And even if he remains unaware of what you call him behind his back for the time being, others have overheard you enough times to draw their own conclusions. You will never convince him that you are genuinely interested while everybody else -his own brother included- is utterly certain that you hate his guts.”

“Hate his guts?  How in the name of science can anyone with two brain cells to rub together ever imagine I hate Sexy-Long-Leg's guts?  I've sent the man chocolates and flowers _,_ for fuck's sake!  I flirt so much with him that Natasha has started to make kissy faces at me every time I so much as say his name.  I seriously doubt there's anyone in this tower who hasn't realized I've got the hots for the smurf, except maybe the good 'ol captain and the Reindeer himself.”

“Miss Romanov is a very perceptive lady.  It would be an error to assume that the rest of the team has been able to match her conclusions.  Finding deeply hidden secrets is a particular skill of hers.  One that none of the other Avengers share, Sir.”

Tony's gut twisted uncomfortably.  
“So you think Lokes is convinced that I'm pranking him because every single member of Earth's Awesome Superhero Team happens to be a ridiculous blind idiot?”

“Blindness has nothing to do with this, Sir. You disparage Mr. Odinson's quirks more often and far more vocally than you criticize anyone else's.”

“That's classic piggy-tail pulling behavior, J.A.R.V.I.S!  I'd understand the Asgardians' lack of insight, but every Earthling on the team should have cottoned onto that one.”

“ _Earthling?_ I do not even know how to start enumerating everything that is wrong with that particular term.”

“Not important. Concentrate, Jeeves, please. We're in the middle of a major break-through when it comes to dealing with the Everest-high roadblock that our reserved, green-eyed magician has decided to throw in the middle of the Get-The-Elusive-Hot-God campaign.”

“I was not aware that we had embarked in something as official as a 'campaign', Sir.  I was under the impression that we were running wildly around, traumatizing poor Mr. Odinson by telling him the first thing that crossed your mind, and then smacking ourselves on the forehead while praying for it to work with as much faith as a hard-core scientist and a man-made machine can muster between them.”

“Hey, what did I tell you about the sass?”  Tony protested distractedly even as he shifted directions and started heading back towards the kitchen, nebulous plan taking shape in the back of his determined mind.  “Let's recap here for a sec before I jump into that room and totally give the rest of the boys and our very own super-cute red haired kick-ass girl assassin the worst kind of indigestion for breakfast.  You think I need to tell the team I'm crushing on His Godliness before I send more flowers, correct?”

“Er—No, Sir.  I never said you should do such a thing.  I was just trying to point out that...”

“Too late, Wall-E.”  Tony interrupted the A.I's attempt to talk him out of his new, fool-proof strategy as he stepped into the kitchen and clapped his hands briskly, making sure the loud noise brought every single member of the team, bar the absent Loki, to instant, battle-ready attention.  Five pairs of curious eyes settled over him with obvious puzzlement as he froze two steps shy of the breakfast bar, eyeing Thor's bulging biceps with new-found wariness and wondering if it wouldn't be a good idea to suit up before dropping this particular bomb on the most terrifying version of big, and scarily strong, brother he'd ever seen.

“Is there something wrong, Tony?  You look... odd.  Odder than usual, I mean.”

_'Oh, bless_ _our overgrown_ _boy scout's helpful little soul.'_   Tony thought to himself ruefully, before forcing his eyes away from Thor's massive form.  He tried for a small, cocky smile but it felt painfully stiff on his lips as he manfully ignored J.A.R.V.I.S' latest attempt to talk 'sense into his thick skull' and blurted his piece into the bewildered silence.

“So I've been trying to romance Sex-On-Legs for a while and he's kind of thinking I'm joking because none of you, idiots, have figured out that I've got the hots for him.”

Everyone except the Russian weapon of mass destruction looked at him with hilarious confusion. Then Bruce: calm, cool-headed Bruce, decided to take off his tiny round spectacles and proceeded to rub them rhythmically back and forth with the beige little cloth he kept inside his shirt pocket in what Tony honestly believed was the good doctor's adorably obvious psychological crutch when dealing with potentially stressful situations.  
“I'm afraid we do not follow you, Tony.  Could you please explain yourself just a tad more slowly this time while losing the befuddling nicknames, at least for now?”

“Befuddling is too big a word to throw at this crowd so early in the morning, Brucie, but I'll indulge you just this once because you've asked so nicely. So hear me out, folks: I've embarked in the quest of the century, my friends, and I need all of you to stop pissing on my parade, because it has come to my attention that your negative Juju is messing my Mojo's romantic vibes.”

“ _What_ romantic vibes, man?” Hawkeye asked with obvious bemusement from his perch atop the second extra-wide fridge. “You haven't looked at a girl since Pepper left you.  Trust me, we've been looking.  Everybody is kind of tired of going on all these Avenger bonding Friday night's out that you've been insisting on hosting lately.  I mean we're fine to give you moral support and everything, if you feel extra-lonely now that you're single again, but I haven't had a Friday night to myself for months and it's getting a bit much, you know?  Trust me, I'm all for you getting laid as fast as you can, buddy.”

Tony was so shocked that he chocked on his own spit, giving the old cap the perfect excuse to bark like a distressed Victorian school teacher:  
“There is no need to be so unsympathetic, Clint. You have no reason to feel mortified, Tony. Everyone needs a bit of support now and then, and we're honored that you've decided to share your loneliness with the team.”

Tony started laughing hysterically.  
“I haven't been 'sharing my loneliness with the team', you idiots!  Oh, this is so pathetic it's not even funny.  I'm going to strangle that bloody Reindeer.”

“Whatever offense you imagine my brother has caused you, he didn't do it on purpose, Man of Iron.”

“Of course he didn't do it on purpose.  How could he have?  He was as clueless as the rest of you until I opened my big mouth and scared him into 0.01% successful non-Avenger related sightings.  Still—He's giving me the worst reputation ever, Thor, and that's just not on.  I haven't been inviting all of you out to the pub on Friday nights.  I've only been inviting _him_ out.”

“You've singled out my brother as your drinking buddy?  I must say that's a lamentable choice, friend Stark. Loki has never been interested in ale-bonding.”

“ _I'm_ not interested in ale-bonding either, Sparky.  I've been trying to—How should I put this so that you, people, understand it once and for all?  Oh, yes: I want to have long, wild and absolutely private Sexy-God-Bonding. With the Reindeer, lets get that part absolutely clear, please.  I've got nothing against big chested blonds, but I dig slender brunettes much better.  So, yeah—I...  I want sweat, saliva and semen everywhere, if possible.  I want porn, OK?  And cheesy little cuddles, too.  Maybe even a small corny poem or two.  And violins, let's not forget the violins.  But you didn't hear that last bit from me.  Not at all.  You all either read my mind, had a sudden flash of insight or something equally enlightened.”

A veritable storm of _'Tony, WTFs?'_ and _'You must be jokings_ ' set the kitchen ablaze with outraged protests, but he ignored each and every single one of them with determined resolution.  
“You can argue until the cows come home.  -Do we actually have live cows in New York? And if we do, what time do they come home?  Where is home, btw?  Are you taking notes J.A.R.V.I.S?  These are things I need to know, ASAP, Sweet Chip.  
“Now where was I?  Ah, yes. The Reindeer thing is not a joke, folks.  I'm dead serious here.  And I don't mean that like I've been freshly shot and we've just come back from my funeral.  No.  I mean it like my mummified body has been macerating in dusty, oven-like heat for thousands of years dead serious.”

“You've got the hots for the Alien-wizard.  We got it, buddy.  Can you stop the revoltingly creepy metaphors now, please?  I'm trying to eat breakfast.”

Clint's disgruntled comment took the wind right out of Tony's fully expanded sails and he faltered for long enough to lose track of the rest of his beautifully defiant speech.  
“You've got it.  That's all you, people, are planning to say?”

They all threw confused looks at one another before the good 'ol captain cleared his throat and pinned him to the floor with the closest thing to a somber glare those baby blues could produce.  
“Director Fury must be informed.  You understand that, don't you, Tony?”

The engineer felt himself grow cold from head to toes.  
“Fury?” He croaked, swallowing convulsively and praying to The Force, to come down here and plonk itself right next to him, in case he needed it to escape the infamous temper of S.H.I.E.L.D's director. “Isn't it a bit early in the proceedings to involve the paper pushers, Boy Scout?  I mean Loki isn't all that keen on me yet, I swear.  Things are a bit...  Tony-sided right now.”

The captain raked him up and down, frowning with picture-perfect austerity.  
“Correct me if I'm wrong, but in my day the mention of violins often implied the existence of a wish for actual love.  Please tell me right now if I'm assuming too much and I'll stay out of this.”

Tony had to try three times before he managed to swallow the huge lump that had settled smack bang in the middle of his throat. Having emotions, any kind of emotions, usually scared the shit out of him. And having to man-up and confess those emotions in cold blood and in front of witnesses, no less, tended to have the very same effect on him.  
“Violins...  Yes.  I want violins.  And cuddles, but that doesn't mean...”

“It means that your deep emotional attachment to another member of the team could put both of you in danger.  We need to have an official discussion about how to deal with this situation before something terrible happens. Fury will be most displeased if we keep something this huge from him.”

“Give me some time before you shoot me down, Capsicle. Loki is already avoiding me as best as he can and, trust me, his technique is so close to an art form that it should be enshrined.  He'll never give me the time of day if we put him through the ordeal of having to endure an official team discussion about something he thinks is a prank.  That will cement his crazy suspicions so tightly to the ground that not even a top of the range enhanced laser beam will be able to shake them loose.”

“Tony...”

“No.  Listen to me, please.  I'm trying to woo the man here, Cap.  You'll destroy whatever measly chance I currently have to charm the Reindeer if you go to Fury right now.  Give me some time, man.  That's all I'm asking. Let me get on with the work of romancing my god in peace.  Don't get in my way.  Don't go teasing the poor bastard mercilessly about having an admirer or something equally dumb.  Don't say anywhere near him that you think I hate his guts and, for heaven's sake, stop accepting his word at face value every time he insists I'm requesting another team bonding session or so help me I'll throw you all out of my tower. Give me just a little leeway here and I promise to inform Furious Eyeball himself, if things get serious."  
  
"I'm not sure that's wise, Tony."  
  
"Pretty please with a cherry on the top?”  He begged shamelessly and was relieved to see the cap's firmly determined expression melt into a moue of exasperated amusement.  The man looked around the kitchen, as if gathering everyone's agreement, before offering him quietly:

“Fine.  We'll give you some time, Tony.  We'll get out of your way and let you woo our Trickster in peace.  Just remember that you are not alone out there and neither is he.  You'll be forced to stop whatever you're doing if we think that one -or both- of you is in danger of getting hurt by all this.  We are a team before we are anything else and that, I'm afraid, will take precedence over your personal feelings towards our resident sorcerer if things don't go your way.  Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Tony?”

Tony's relived smile froze more solidly on his lips the longer Steve talked, but he refused to let it leave his face even as he forced himself to shrug his shoulders as carelessly as he could and answered the sanctimonious bossy boots in his own better-than-though-martyr-supper-soldier language.  
“Loud and clear, capsicle.  I heard you loud and clear."  
  
"Please don't be like that. I wasn't trying to offend you."  
  
Tony's smile didn't reach his eyes even as he accepted the man's earnest apology.  
"No.  It's cool, I swear.  It's really nice to know that there's someone else in this team, apart from Thor here and myself, willing to look out for Loki's best interests.  I just wish you had the balls to say it to his face, Cap.  I'm pretty sure it'll make his day."

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter** **3** **.**

 

Tony was busy perusing three different flower catalogs, the website for Knipschildt Chocolatier, a directory that listed the 50 most beautiful bookstores in the world -J.A.R.V.I.S' suggestion- and a few other smallish and far less traditional wooing options when the elusive object of his every wet dream barged into his lab like a gloriously sexy -and inexplicably furious- F5 tornado.

“To what do I owe the immense pleasure of this visit, hot stuff?” He inquired, hastily closing down his browser while attempting to cover the colorful pictures of the top most catalog with a strategically placed forearm.  
  
Luckily for him, the Asgardian version of Merlin in a huff wasn't curious in the slightest about what he was up to. Nope. The smurf was well and truly enraged for whatever reason, and he seemed to have no time to go Ooh! and Aah! over the messy magnificence that was Tony Stark's personal laboratory. _'Honestly! This guy's attitude is gonna give me a complex. Any other man would have been feeling like he'd won the lottery as soon as he walked past the lab's door_ _way_ _and this_ _damned_ _bastard doesn't even take a sec_ _ond_ _to look around!'_

“I can't believe you've dared to whisper the ridiculous tale of your supposed affection towards me in my brother's foolish ear.” Loki hissed dangerously, coming to an abrupt halt at the other side of the desk Tony was currently occupying to glare at the mortal with such venom that each and every single muscle in the billionaire's body turned rigid with the knowledge that his crush was spiting mad right now and that was never a good sign for whoever had driven the Trickster to such levels of ire.

“I'm not really all that fond of ear-whispering, gorgeous. I prefer a more in-your-face approach, you know? Got a reputation to maintain and all that. Can't afford to be seen as some sort of secretive little snitch when I've got nothing to hide. I'm Tony Stark, man. I don't need to go around mumbling and grumbling stuff. I give interviews, make speeches, ramble whenever I please and the rest of the world just... shuts up and listens. It's called charisma, in case you were wondering.”

“I don't really care how you managed to convince my brother of your supposed affection, Stark. The only thing that matters is the fact that you did so.”

“I didn't realize it was supposed to be a secret, sweet-cheeks. I meant it when I told you that I like you, but you seemed disinclined to believe me. That's when I decided that telling the team about operation Burrow-Into-The-Alien-Wizard's-Pants-Like-A-Wombat-In-Heat would help you grasp how serious I am about things.” Tony offered as nonchalantly as he could.

“You've spoken to the team?” Loki squeaked, appearing for all intents and purposes as appalled as a stuffy Queen would look if she'd discovered a living rodent dancing the polka in her favorite soup bowl.

Tony fidgeted nervously with the couple of loose wires that were dangling from what should have been a pen stand but was currently housing a screwdriver, a laser pointer, a broken flashlight and some random scrap of metal that Dum-E had decided to paint yellow for some obscure reason.  
“They were getting in the way, weren't they? You kept using them as some sort of weird chaperoning service and acting all clueless about  _us_.”

“I wasn't _acting_ clueless. I was genuinely clueless, you, idiot!” Loki raged, looking so passionately incensed that Tony developed the biggest I-love-it-when-you-snarl-at-me hard on of his entire life.

He wondered dazedly what were his chances of actually surviving past a minute if he leaped over the desk and tackled his spitting mad alien firecracker to the floor and kind of feasted his mouth all over him. The abject disappointment that rushed through his veins upon coming to the conclusion that the odds were definitely not in his favor banked down his ardor with dizzying speed and he swallowed hard at least twice before attempting to blindside Loki with the brightest grin in his bright grin repertoire:  
“That means you believe me? That's awesome, hot stuff! I've been worrying non-stop about the 0.01% Sex god sighting thing, so I'm totally relieved that you're finally ready to see sense.”

“I'm not here to indulge your ridiculous little fantasy, Stark. I've come to tell you that I most emphatically refuse to tolerate...”

“Don't pull any more of that crap on me, please. It's bad for my sensitive, alcohol-pickled stomach. Can't afford to develop an ulcer now or so Pepper tells me. Worrying me like this is just not on, man.”

“I'm serious, Stark.”

“Great! I'm pretty goddamned serious, too, babe. Now that we've settled that much we should move things swiftly forwards, so... how about Sushi? I know you love Sushi something fierce, so don't you dare scrunch that sweet little nose at me, pumpkin. It's terribly cute and it makes me even hungrier than I am. Dangerous, that. I might decide to eat you for dinner instead, you know?”

“I have absolutely no intention of...”

“That's alright, sex-on-legs, let's agree that the naughty intentions are all mine for the time being, so... sushi?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oookkeey Dookkeey. No food, then. What about a couple of beers down at the corner's watering hole?”

Loki glared at him with enough venom to make lesser mortals shrivel up and turn into dusty nothingness on the spot. Tony had never been a lesser mortal, though, so he crossed his arms impatiently, making sure that the bulging biceps he'd taken great pains to develop for this god's benefit were showcased in all their glorious, attention-grabbing splendor and waited for the snotty new rejection that his crush was bound to deliver:  
“I have never seen the appeal of that disgusting midgardian beverage.”

“That's not cool, man, but I'll let it pass this time because even your rudeness is adorable. Just remember that poking holes at another guy's one-on-one drinking invitation is a big dating no-no in this planet. Seriously, Lokes, you'll never get laid around here if this is how you treat your conquests. Not that I want you to get laid, you understand. Unless it is with the one conquest currently occupying this room.”

Loki blinked twice in quick succession, gaping like a fish out of the water and turning the most lovely shade of rose in slow motion.  
“You make absolutely no sense. I do not have conquests. Ever. I—That's Thor's area of expertise.”

Tony's foolish heart went out to the poor bastard and he wondered -not for the first time- how blind and downright stupid the general population of Asgard must be. They'd spent two thousand years locked in one planet with a guy as hot as Loki and hadn't had enough brain power to realize that the man's a walking, talking, magic-wielding fucking wet dream on wheels.  
“More for me, then.”

“I am not _yours._ ” Loki huffed instantly, taking a single step backwards that had Tony shooting out of his chair and leaning across the top of the desk to catch a very refined long-fingered hand.

“Hey... It's cool, man. We're cool. I promise. Don't let yourself get bogged down in semantics or we'll never find a way out of this impasse, OK?”

“I want you to stop this prank right here, right now. I mean it, Stark.”

Tony looked right into those haunted green eyes and the panic he saw there left him cold down to his bones. He could tell that Loki wasn't playing hard to get. No, the guy was totally serious. The Asgardian bad-ass prince was genuinely convinced that Tony's avowals of affection were some sort of sick joke and the very idea was hurting his godly heart something fierce. He was genuinely distressed and trying his best to hide it under a whole load of defensive huff and puff.

“I'm not joking, hot stuff. You've hooked me fair and square.”

Loki looked down at the fingers Tony had wrapped around his wrist and the inventor could literally see how much the contact was bothering his touch-starved wizard. Those green eyes were fixed on his hand for so long that he started to worry they'd both end up freezing into position until they became the sexiest life-sized lab decorations the world had ever seen. Luckily for everyone involved Loki blinked himself out of whatever thoughts were swirling in that clever mind of his to stare directly into his face, pinning him to the spot with nothing but the power inherent in his wary gaze this time.  
“You are a warrior, Stark. Thor has more in common with you than I ever will.”

Tony wanted to sigh, roll his eyes or -even better- stomp his sock-covered feet into the floor like a toddler with a tantrum, but he didn't dare to do anything of the sort. He could not afford to make any kind of move that could be interpreted as scornful. He may be a bit of a brat most of the time, but he understood better than most how easily a lifetime of soul-deep insecurity could crush even the most logical mind once the right conditioning kicked in. He'd been in that boat himself, had sailed it for most of his life and never, ever, wanted to get back on it. He wasn't willing to let Loki keep traveling along inside his own, either. Not if he could help it.  
“I don't want your brother, cupcake. I only want _you_.”

“Stark...”

“I swear I'll try kissing you into submission if you carry on talking nonsense. Words are getting us nowhere and some say actions speak louder than words, so... what do you say? Are you going with the sushi, the beer, the complaining or the smooching? Let me point out that my personal favorite is the one that involves prolonged tongue-in-tongue action, but I'm willing to behave like the gentleman I was raised to be and let you pick whichever suits you best.”

Loki turned his head slightly to the side, contemplating him for a tense second through hooded green eyes.  
“What would you do if I pick none of those things? You are a single, fragile mortal while I am...”

“Yeah, yeah. You're Godzilla himself. You'll break me like a twig. Pound me into the ground. Maul me into submission and so on. I can't force you to do anything because you are freaking awesome. I get it. Now stop procrastinating and give me your answer already.”

“I already did.”

“You've picked _no_ _thing_? What kind of ninny shit is that? You can't tell me you'll crush me like a bug, if I step out of line, and then run away to hide under your bed like a frightened little girl. Come on, have some balls, Loki!”

The Asgardian laughed, bitterly angry, and shook his wrist free. He'd stepped well out of Tony's reach before the inventor could blink.  
“You are finally showing your true colors. Aren't you, Stark? No mighty warrior ever fails to claim his opponent's cowardice whenever his challenge is rejected and thus I am here: denounced as gutless by another friend of my brother's. Standing in shame before his mocking eyes while he dares to judge me without proper provocation. Listening to him call me the most offensive name in all the realms just because I've exercised my right to reject false advances made for no other purpose but to seek my humiliation.”

“Sweetheart...”

“I am not _your_ sweetheart. I am not your _anything_. I am sick of this game you're playing at my expense, and I won't allow you to goad me into participating in it a single second longer.”

“I'm not trying to...”

“Enough!” Loki hissed so viciously that Tony fell instantly silent. They stared at one another from opposite sides of the desk until the billionaire gathered enough gumption to squeak the most frightening six words he'd ever said to this fascinating creature with as much soft-toned composure as he could muster.

“I'm in love with you, Loki.”

“Grrr! You are absolutely infuriating!” His annoyed crush snarled before popping right out of existence like a wispy daydream.

“Damn! That vanishing act of his is so freaking annoying.” Tony grumbled with frustration and scratched the back of his neck in a jittery attempt to control the urgent desire to get J.A.R.V.I.S to track down that irritating smurf and have this out with him until he'd shoved some sense into that thick Asgardian skull.

“I think your last declaration was rather inspired, Sir.”

“It didn't stop him from leaving, did it?”

“Proud men don't like to retreat before their enemies. They only ever do so when their fear of breaking down and exposing their fragility is so strong that their worry about being ridiculed for making their escape becomes negligible in comparison.”

Tony rubbed his face hard and sighed the emotionally-exhausted sigh that he hadn't dared to exhale while Loki had been in the room.  
“Are you trying to tell me that the Reindeer still sees me as an enemy or that my heartfelt speech touched his hardened soul?”

“That was unusually... poetic... of you, Sir.”

“Stop procrastinating, J.A.R.V.I.S. Don't worry about crushing my hopes or anything equally dumb. I'm Iron Man. I can take the blow. Come on, give it to me straight.”

“I think you are totally screwed, Sir.”

Tony gaped. Then blinked repeatedly, like one of those weird old maidens from a black and white movie, until he caught sight his reflection on some random piece of metal and ended up roaring with mildly hysterical laughter.  
“Damn! You're good, Jarvs. You are an honest to goodness engineering miracle. I love you more than life. I seriously do.”

“I believe it is bad manners to profess that kind of passion to two different beings in the space of five minutes, Sir.”

Tony sobered at once.  
“True. I just—he didn't believe me.”

“That is most certainly correct.”

“I'll have to convince him of my sincerity, then.”

“I believe so, yes.”

“How do I do that?”

J.A.R.V.I.S took so long to answer his slightly dejected question that Tony started to believe he'd probably self-combusted trying to find a solution that simply didn't exist. But when the posh British drawl finally reached his ears he realized that his A.I. hadn't been exhausting himself attempting to solve the impossible, after all. He had been gathering his proverbial mega-chips to say something that was probably rubbing his cyber-pride wrong all the way down to his motherboard:  
“The most important thing you have ever taught me is that some things are better done on the fly. I believe courting Asgard's Trickster might be one of those. Love, as you have so painstakingly described it to me, doesn't make a lick of sense and therefore you must follow your gut instincts and... improvise. Improvise like mad, Sir.”

Tony chuckled despite himself and shook his head from left to right, marveling at the incredible wisdom of his own creation.  
“I think I'll marry you if Loki sends me packing, J.A.R.V.I.S, although the sex between us could get awkward.”

“You are the human who is in love with a Frost Giant, Sir. I believe your future sex life will be awkward either way.”

“Nah, It's gonna be hot.”

“On the contrary. It should be extremely cold.”

“Fine! It's gonna be cool, then.”

“Definitely not cool. I think frost-bitingly terrifying is a far better description.”

“Oh, shut up. I'm not going to let you record what Loki and I get up to inside our honeymoon-suite just to prove my point, so stop angling for that kind of instruction, you, little deviant!” Tony laughed, allowing their light banter to soothe his ruffled feathers and, if he hadn't known the feat to be beyond any A.I's capabilities, he would have sworn that a smug little smile colored J.A.R.V.I.S' voice when he finally answered:

“That's the spirit, Sir.”

 

**TBC...  
  
** **  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter** **4.**

 

Tony despised baddies with a penchant for attacking his beloved New York at obscenely early hours of Monday mornings even more than he despised Monday mornings themselves. He specially despised the kind of baddies who wore super-cool armors just like his own. And if they were rude enough to dare being the kind of goddamned techno-wizards who could grab Loki's elusive attention in under five seconds flat and, literally, make the god's lovely green eyes sparkle with exhilarated challenge on top of everything else, then all bets were off.

He'd blasted that cocky bastard sky high with a single shot of his new super-awesome repulsor technology (the same one he had developed specifically to defend himself against Thor's potentially hazardous protective big-brother tendencies, back when he still feared that the mighty god wouldn't be pleased by the news that he wanted to bang his younger sibling blind), so his attack had the same satisfying result that his extensive in-lab testing had promised.

What he -or any other Avenger, for that matter- couldn't have predicted in a million years was how very upset Loki had been about it all. He'd yelled at Tony non-stop for forty-five minutes straight. Called him a war-mongering brute, who wouldn't recognize diplomacy if it chewed his butt off, ignored every attempt made by good old-captain Rogers to calm him down, and magicked himself off the still slightly smoldering battlefield with that wispy little green puff of his that never failed to make Tony's usually laid-back feathers bristle with ruffled indignation.

“I hate it when you do that, Smurf! You need to man-up and stop running away like a pouting princess every time the world doesn't grant your wishes!” He screamed right into Loki's shocked face as soon as he'd tracked down his slippery beloved, after having spent the entire morning first cleaning up the mess left behind by their satisfyingly defeated enemy, and then being heartily congratulated by their terror inducing, one-eyed boss, in what must have been the single creepiest conversation he'd ever shared with director Fury.

His long-legged version of wickedly-hot alien wizard shot out of the sofa he'd been so comfortably curled into with one of those dusty tomes he tended to favor so fast that his long hair whirled around his beautiful pale face in one of those uber-sexy shampoo-ad moments, settling artfully back into place with that slightly tousled look that, coupled with the shocked widening of those long-lashed green eyes and the slow-bloom of the angry flush that was starting to take over those amazingly high cheekbones, managed to shatter Loki's usual look of prim formality in under two seconds.

“Look at you... You look like the wettest dream I've ever had come to life. I've been ready to strangle you for the last three hours and now all I want to do is stand here and... marvel... at your beauty.” He growled breathlessly, unable to focus on anything beyond the fact that he was here, in the presence of the one creature he wanted the most in all the universe, and he could name at least fifty six things that would be a hell of a lot more satisfying right now than shouting at the prat until his voice turned hoarse.

“You can't truly expect me to swoon over such obvious lie like some sort of vapid, medieval midgardian maiden. Your poetic nonsense isn't even poetic, Stark. If this is your idea of 'charming' I'd hate to see you on full on Neanderthal mode.” Loki scoffed and Tony literally saw red.

“Why must I be 'lying' just because I like you? Liking you isn't a bloody sin, Loki! You are hot. You are clever. You are sophisticated and sexy and artsy and so goddamned deep that I fear I'm going to drown before I even scratch the bottom of what makes you tick.” He barked, raising determined hands towards his bloody annoying crush with the hazy intention of shaking some sense into him.

“What do you think you are doing? Do not lay your hands on me or I'll rip those grabby paws clean off your wrist. I'm warning you, mortal!”

Tony froze in his tracks, more than a little bit turned on by the God's sexy bad-ass attitude, and tried hard to hide his cock'sdownright dirty thoughtsbehind a thick curtain of frustration:  
“You had no trouble whatsoever accepting Creep-Von-Doom's not-so-subtle admiration. It's hardly fair that I get the far less friendly 'I'm-ripping-apart-the-loathsome-randy-mortal-for-daring-to-drool-over-me' treatment while he got the 'I'll-chat-you-up-with-my-sexy-godly-charms-instead-of-blasting-you-to-smithereens-with-my-awesome-magic-powers'.”

Loki blinked, clearly disconcerted, and tried manfully to hide his increasing bewilderment at the twist their conversation was taking but such task was simply impossible. He gaped despite himself and blushed like a thoroughly scandalized schoolgirl who'd just caught her first glimpse of an unmistakably aroused male. His already widened green gaze turned the size of jumbo marbles as he struggled to come up with one of his witty retorts and came up with a pathetically strangled denial instead.  
“I wasn't 'chatting' Victor up. I was trying to understand his motivations for fighting against us. He has only ever been interested in battling the Fantastic Four before, and I...”

“He was flirting with you, dude! He was putting on the charm, puffing up his chest like a mane-less lion and all but bragging about his ability to perform those parlor tricks of his, just to see you look at him as if he were bloody Merlin reincarnated!”

“For the love of the Norns, Victor did nothing of the sort, Stark! We were having a fairly friendly conversation for two people who are on opposite sides of a conflict, and I had almost succeeded in talking him out of continuing with that battle before you barged in where you weren't needed and destroyed the fruits of my efforts.”

“ _Victor_ , eh? Funny how you've known that Latvian douche-bag for all of thirty seconds and you, guys, are already on first name basis. _We_ have been living together for two fucking years and I'm still bloody Stark to you.” Tony snarled, maddened beyond reason by the injustice of it all. He had fallen for the Reindeer before anyone else on Earth. He'd seen beauty within this walking time-bomb long before anyone -bar Thor- had stopped screaming the words 'murderous psychopath' in Fury's mostly deaf ear, and now that everything was fine and dandy, he wasn't willing to share his dark-haired diamond in the rough with anyone. Least of all a second rate wizard/inventor with a chip on his shoulder the size of his own ego, who had nothing over him except the fact that he could plant his metallic little rear on the throne of some obscure European country that nobody had even heard about before the guy showed up in their backyard.

“Don't be ridiculous! I use your last name as a sign of respect, just like I use the last name of every other member of the team.”

“What If I ask you to respect me a little less, then? You know I'm trying to charm you, sugar lips. I could do a lot with a substantial reduction of the prissy formality you insist on keeping around me.”

“That would be... improper.., Stark. Battle comrades are not meant to be friends outside the field, regardless of what Thor's attitude may have you believe. My brother's approach often leads him to throw a skirmish out of sentiment. He's surrendered more than once in order to save one of the Warriors Three or even the Lady Sif. Allowing one's shield brothers to make friendly overtures only leads to disaster.”

Tony blinked, shook his head as if to clear it, and then blinked again for good measure before looking back at Loki and coming to the awful conclusion that _'Nope. I didn't dream that one up. He definitely sounded like Fury's_ _creepy_ _twin, just now.'  
_ “I can't believe you're spouting that stinky load of BS out loud in public, gorgeous.”

“It is not BS, as you so charmingly put it. It is the plain and simple truth. Fraternizing with fellow warriors is a tactical mistake.”

Tony chuckled mirthlessly under his breath and decided to come up close and personal to his ridiculously cute cold-hearted war-machine.  
“I want into your pants either way, pumpkin, so I'd rather you start using my first name, if its all the same to you.”

“I assumed you had come to your senses about that. You haven't been bothering me with ridiculous tokens of affection lately, and...”

“I've retreated to arm myself with better weapons, since the ones I've used so far haven't been very effective.” Tony stated flatly, cutting down whatever dismissive thing his crush may have been about to say and deciding to go on the offensive while his Trickster struggled with the shock of his announcement: “Tell me, sweet-cheeks, do you like your men on the evil-tempered side of the spectrum or did Doom earn brownie points for having the complexion of a ripened avocado, and being obscenely fond of green-colored metal?”

Loki gave him the deathliest death-glare in his 'piss in your pants, dirtbag' death-glare arsenal and all but hissed with outraged disbelief:  
“You think me so shallow that I'd allow myself to be charmed by a man just because he wears my colors? He wasn't wearing them to honor me. He must have a personal preference for that particular combination, just as you do for my brother's choice of red and gold.”

Tony faltered at that, frowning with dismayed self-disgust at his failure to spot _that_ particular pitfall. Colors meant a lot to these guys, just like they did to all the stuffy medieval kings and queens of old. His alien wizard's mindset was closer Arthur's Merlin than his own, and he'd failed abysmally to understand that pretty simple fact. _'Fucking buggering hell on toast! I've been waxing poetic about loving this guy to the depths and brea_ _d_ _ths of the universe for weeks on end while wearing Thor's signature combo all_ _along_ _...'  
_ “Loki, I...”

“I find it really offensive that you'd dare to accuse me of attempting to overpower an enemy through sexual wiles. I am no harlot, Stark. I wouldn't know the first thing about seducing an opponent if my life depended on it. I was trained as a warrior, not a courtesan, and I deeply resent the implication that I would...”

“OK! I messed up, I admit it. But _y_ _ou_ were Ohhing and Ahhing over that slick-tongued upstart's barely refined costume and wizarding mumbo-jumbo tricks with enough aplomb to fool me. I'm sure you fooled him, too.”

“That's preposterous.”

“He conjured you a fucking flower: A. Flower, Loki! And you accepted it with a smile on your face, despite the fact that it was an ugly brown color and hopelessly lopsided. You chopped off my goddamned imported Brazilian orchids without hesitating even once, but sighed over that appalling little lump as if it were the Holy Grail itself!”

“He made it himself. Poured a part of his being into creating a small token just for me. He didn't do it out of lust, he did it out of respect for a mediator who may have succeeded in reasoning with him if you hadn't intervened. You, on the other hand, don't put effort into anything. You just barge in wherever you please and bulldoze away the obstacles you can't throw money at. What was there to make your flowers worthy, eh, Stark? I'd bet you even had your J.A.R.V.I.S arrange for them to be delivered.”

Tony stumbled back a step, right hand palming his forehead hard in a thoroughly flustered gesture of unequivocal understanding.  
“That's why you've scorned all my gifts... You're a bloody attention diva!”

“I'm most certainly nothing of the sort. I am a god: A. God, Stark!, and I know everything there is to know about the kind of people who use their wealth to pave their way towards one bedroom door after another.” The Smurf spat so resentfully that Tony took another cautious step backwards.

“I'm not going to apologize for being stinking rich, peaches. I have wealth and I like to use it. That doesn't mean I'm as shallow as you're trying to paint me.”

“I've seen nothing to support such lofty claim.” Loki huffed, looking so adorably pompous that Tony had to stuff his grabby paws into the back pockets of his tattered black jeans, least he jumped that difficult son of a bitch and smooched him to death.

“When have you given me the chance to do anything besides running after you and bang my head against the thick wall of disbelief you keep holding between us like a protective shield? You were talking to Victor Bloody Von Doom for five whole minutes. That's 98.6% longer than the last ten conversations we've shared put together, cupcake!”

Loki looked so thunderstruck that, for a second or two, Tony wondered if he'd managed to fry that clever and analytical mind with the simple power of an old-fashioned, jealousy-fueled, hissy fit. Then those shocked green eyes fluttered up and down slowly, giving the god the appearance of a very confused and heart-meltingly adorable little owlet.  
“You are _jealous_. You didn't blast Victor away because you were acting like the trigger-happy buffoon who usually follows my brother. No. You ruined a potentially successful diplomatic effort because you are truly in love with me...”

“Finally, dude! I thought you were never going to see the light. I hope you're not expecting a cookie for arriving at the right conclusion, because I literally spelled this out for you ages ago, and I'm not into rewarding slow coaches.”

Loki frowned, looking right at him with a very unsettling mixture of perplexed wonder and avid curiosity.  
“ _Why_? Why have you spent the last few weeks trying to convince me that your crazy avowals of affection are genuine only to start jesting as soon as I do so? Does it not please you that I'm finally willing to believe that you may have developed some sort of misguided... admiration... towards me?”

“It's not _misguided_ and it's not _admiration_. It's LOVE, you, idiot! Come on, don't give me that look. I know you've heard the name of the emotion before. Your parents are married, aren't they? And Thor has this really weird Tarzan thing going on with our sweet and lovely Jane.”

“My mother and brother are lovable people, despite how often their foolish hearts forces them to gravitate towards the flawed. They both love _me_ , after all.”

“You. Are. Not. Flawed, for fuck's sake!” Tony growled, utterly exasperated by now, and wondered if this is how Pepper had been feeling every day of the last two decades or so. He should send her a basket of fruit, -not strawberries, though- if that was the case. It was a miracle he'd survived for so long with all his body parts attached, if his increasingly strong desire to grab the Smurf's handsome head and bash it against the nearest wall until it stopped talking nonsense was anything at all like the murderous ire he must have awakened within the saintly heart of that poor woman during his most stubborn self-destructive episodes.

“If you say so.” Loki mumbled, turning towards his abandoned sofa and the book resting upon it, even as he shrugged those wide shoulders of his in the kind of dismissive little gesture that pretty much implied he believed Tony's opinion to be the least important thing in the entire universe.

“Make it official, J.A.R.V.I.S, Tony Stark's least favorite villain of all time is Victor-Bloody-Von-Doom and his number one pick for least flawed screwball in the nine realms is one Loki Odinson, AKA Sexy Silvertongue the First.” He barked determinedly, directing his patented I-know-you-want-to-smash-my-toothy-grin-into-the-back-of-my-throat look at his companion's scowling face and feeling only very slightly satisfied by the fact that he'd put a pin on the God's obvious attempt to cut their frustrating little discussion short for the time being.

“I grow tired of your games, Stark. Your so-called affection does not give you leeway to ridicule my life's truths. I do not ridicule yours, regardless of how easily it would be for me to do so.”

Tony crossed his muscled biceps across his equally muscled chest and puffed up as much as he possibly could, proudly displaying his hard-won six pack like a peacock on the prowl, and hoping to high heaven that the Reindeer would be at least a little bit impressed by the results of the obscene amount of hours he'd been clocking in the gym.  
“What will it take for you to look me in the eye and stop seeing a headstrong mortal trying to play with your heart for shits and giggles? What do I do when my flowers can't make you smile, my chocolates remain unopened, my dinner invitations fall on deaf ears and the hardest confession I've ever voiced out loud doesn't move you a single inch? How do I prove to the Trickster himself the truth he's too blind to see, Loki?”

“I am not blind, just a bit wiser than you are. Your conviction in your feelings does you credit, but it doesn't make them any more real than straightforward infatuation. This is all a passing fancy for you, Stark. You see me as something new. Something challenging. Something you have never had before and therefore must experience. I was once naïve enough to fall for such short-lived regard. It is glorious while it lasts, but vanishes distressingly quickly. I don't have time for things that come and go.”

Tony swallowed his discomfort with the decidedly serious turn the conversation had just taken and girded his loins to run his trembling knuckles over the silky skin of his Reindeer's left cheekbone. Startled green eyes focused on his own, looking oddly vulnerable, despite their owner's vocal claim to life-hardened wisdom.  
“I've never been one to come and go. I'm Tony fucking Stark, Loki. If I wanted to leave I wouldn't be standing here. I've never been shy about saying 'no' to things and people I don't care about. That's what keeps treasures like Pepper, Happy and good-ol' Rhodey near me, man. I may rarely stick around for anyone but, when I do, there's no power on this Earth that will forcibly remove me. I was once naïve enough to believe love wasn't for the likes of me, either. But I was wrong. And so are you, sweetheart.”

Loki closed his eyes tightly, turning his head far enough away for Tony's caressing knuckles to lose contact with his cheek before asking him point blank:  
“What If I don't want to do this, Stark? Would you respect that? Would you... give up, then?”

Tony's pounding heart ached with unspeakable sorrow. His chocolate-brown eyes settled over his beautiful Asgardian, attempting to brand his image into the soul he'd never thought he had before it started howling inside him like a clawing, dying demon. It took him three painfully obvious attempts to force down the lump that had lodged itself bang in the middle of his parched throat in order to whisper softly into the silence:  
“I will go down with your ship, Captain Silvertongue. But I can do so without bothering you about it. I can...”

“Must you always speak in code? I don't own a single ship, _Anthony_.”

Tony's idiotic eyes started playing girly tricks on him then. They burned like a pair of wimpy motherfuckers and somehow managed to make his manly voice sound choked when he whispered in response:  
“That's alright, buttercup. I can build your ship for you, if you let me. I'm not sure you've heard this before, but I happen to be real handy with a soldering gun.”

His alien wizard chuckled awkwardly and shook his head from left to right, clearly wondering what the hell could he do with a nutter like him. Somber green eyes looked at him sternly, taking in whatever emotions were plastered over his face and reading them like a book or a map. Like a wordless avowal of Tony knew not what.  
“Effort, Anthony. That is the only thing that will ever make you worthy. Effort is the language of the gods. The one thing that often forces them to notice you and reward you with your heart's greatest desire. Effort is the key that opens every door, but you must use it wisely, for it could gain you things you are not truly ready for.”

**TBC...  
  
** ****


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter** **5** **.**

  
Tony's heart thundered as he pulled the soldering gun away from his latest creation and dropped it messily atop the scraps-littered counter, lifting his newly freed hand to exchange his protective eye gear for the super-sleek frame that housed the specialized set of magnifying lenses that would allow him to check the final structure's surface for general smoothness and minor imperfections. As soon as he perched the small frame atop the bridge of his nose the entire room blurred into a dizzying array of wobbly colors that disappeared altogether from his consciousness when he re-focused his attention on the object before him.  
  
Twenty five minutes of intense prodding and pulling with the specially designed tweezers he had to create for this particular job, some seriously cumbersome re-soldering, a spot of sanding or two and the careful re-application of his paint color of choice had him pulling the lenses aside and staring at his latest creation with a small, uncomfortable lump of something that felt suspiciously like self-consciousness settling in the middle of his throat.

“It is done. It is finally done. OMG! I can't believe I ignored my incredible, off the chart intellect, long enough to make this crap.” He whispered into the overwhelming silence of the lab and felt the thoroughly unwelcome need to cringe away from the work table and hide himself in the closest dark corner when his A.I decided to increase the lighting just enough for his exhausted eyes to run up and down the flawlessly rendered shape he'd been slaving over for the last three weeks straight.

“Allow me to disagree most emphatically with that particular assessment. You have never created anything more beautiful, Sir.” J.A.R.V.I.S stated in a tone that brimmed with such unparalleled levels of Tony-inspired awe that it brought a cocky smile to his lips, allowing him to forget for a second or two the million or so madly flapping butterflies that were so rudely attempting to invade the exclusive resort his nerves were pretty determined to build in the pit of his stomach.

“You mean I've never created anything more useless.”

The lights increased a tad more and he would have happily strangled J.A.R.V.I.S on the spot, if he'd been smart enough to realize he needed to give the blasted thing a neck he could squeeze, for having the gall to focus a corny little beam of moonlight-blue illumination atop the delicately rendered metal rose that stood before him, curled around its own solid silver pedestal like a profoundly proud and intensely self-relying partially open bloom that drew the eye towards its fragile looking petals like a magnet draws iron filings.  
“I can't possibly give this to the smurf, Jarvs. This is too... kitsch.”

“On the contrary, Sir. Your work is both elegant and beautiful. It has the added advantage of, and I quote: _'putting to shame Doomy's_ _ugly_ _blob and mak_ _ing sure_ _that_ _Sexy-Long-Legs_ _can't_ _smash this_ _awesome_ _gorgeousness_ _into a pulp and use it for his magical concoctions._ _'_ ”

Tony shuddered theatrically and lifted playful eyes towards the closest camera he could find:  
“Please, don't call the Reindeer by the lovely nicknames I come up with just for him, sweet-chip. Hearing you call him Sexy-Long-Legs is about the creepiest thing I've heard since we eavesdropped on Brucie's shower concerts.”

“Mrs. Potts would have already accused you of stalling, if she were here. I think it's fair to remind you that you've programmed me to use her predicted responses as parameters for my reactions when it comes to anything that involves your attempts to woo Mr. Odinson.”

“If you want to call me a chicken you should have the balls to do it without laying down your Pepper card. It's bad form to get ladies involved in this kind of buddy-on-buddy bitching, Jeeves.”

“You are still procrastinating, Sir.”

“And you are developing really annoying personality traits by the second. Remind me to erase whatever awful settings I put in place for these situations, Wall-e. They suck something fierce.”

“I'm glad they are being successful, then. The fact that you set them in the first place is a testament to how well you know yourself.”

“OMFG! Cut the crap, please, J.A.R.V.I.S. I overdose on that sort thing every time Pepper feels like handing down free lectures because she's been saintly patient with me so far and I owe her big time, but I draw the line at having you spout that awful stuff right here, in my precious lab. That kind of aberration could throw the entire Universe into apocalyptic chaos.”

“Talking about chaos...”

“Grrr! You're impossible, charming-cables. What do you want me to tell you? This thing is... it's not _me_. Is it? My reputation will just shrivel up and die if I'm caught anywhere near this flowery piece of junk. I gave Loki an awesome Stark-phone that could have easily withstood the usual disruption caused by those magic vibes of his and he scorned it mercilessly. I developed the tech just for him. How the hell is that not 'effort'?”

“I'm almost certain your gesture lost the totality of its wooing appeal because you gave equally tailored Stark-phones to every member of the team, Sir. I suppose as gifts go it wasn't a terrible one, but you must admit that it was hardly 'special'.”

“Fine! What about when I manned up and spoke to the team about my feelings and all that uber-frightening emotional jazz, then? I actually confessed the whole mushy mess to him like some sort of vapid teenage girl. Why on Earth doesn't _that_ count as 'effort'? Come on, Jarvs! You know better than anyone how much doing all that cost me. I'm not the most hearty-hearty guy out there and I'm making huge allowances for this man because he's like two billion times square worse at this than I've ever been.”

“Words alone will not convince the Liesmith himself to trust you with his heart, Sir. You know there is no greatest 'effort' out there than finding the courage to do the things that make you feel most vulnerable. Mr. Odinson expects you to present him with either another flashy technological device or a truly outrageous, arrogantly grand, Tony Stark gesture. That is why you chose to do this instead. You wanted to shock him. To leave him speechless. You were determined to shake his every preconception of what you truly stand for and you're never going to achieve that, unless you stop whining like a baby and get on with it already!”

Tony gaped and stared, wide-eyed, into space, attempting to digest the terribly accurate assessment that his annoyingly insightful A.I had so very eloquently just rammed down his gullet. An entire minute of dazed inner contemplation left him pretty much as jittery as he'd started, and he exhaled a long-suffering sigh before mumbling resentfully:  
“This 'effort' thing is a bloody pain in the ass, Jarvs.”

“Is that your way of asking me to summon Mr Odinson down to the lab, posthaste, or are we still on procrastinating mode, Sir?”

Tony flushed with discomfort and scratched the back of his neck, feeling so ridiculously nervous about the prospect of presenting his token of affection to the creature who had inspired it that he considered bashing his doubt-filled skull against the nearest rough wall, just to clear his head.  
“What if he doesn't like it, J.A.R.V.I.S? What do I do if it turns out that I've poured all my reserves of sentimental mush and then some on this dammed flower thing and he takes a single look at it and... laughs?”

“That is a question only you can answer, Sir.”

“Thanks so much for that amazingly useless reply. You're really -not- helping me out here, buddy.” Tony snorted mirthlessly and closed his chocolate-brown eyes while he stubbornly remained exactly were he was: poised with apparent indolence at the very edge of his stool, socked right foot already on the ground while the toes of his left one remained firmly curled around the small bar that connected the three legs of his seat together, keeping him firmly anchored to the only safe spot left in the Universe right now.

He knew himself well enough to realize that he'll never get this done unless he pushed himself into it. The question wasn't really how to go about accomplishing that particular feat, but whether he really, genuinely, wanted to go quite so far out of his comfort zone for a guy who hadn't given him a single shred of encouragement so far, no matter how bloody gorgeous he happened to be.

Tony had given flowers to plenty of people before. He'd given them for both the right and wrong kind of reasons without turning a hair about the gesture, but he'd never, ever, gifted one he'd made with his own hands. He'd despised origami and gooey kiddie crafts while growing up and had never even though of using anything that wasn't store-bought once he'd hit puberty. Being rich had plenty of perks in that regard and so he'd never really forced himself to put his entire heart into anything that wasn't awesome-genius-engineer related so far. He hadn't gone to these lengths even for Pepper, and she'd been his dream of salvation at a time when he'd desperately needed one. She'd been his emotional anchor. His last shot at sane, responsible and... normal.  
“I'm so frightened of doing what I'm about to do that it isn't even funny, J.A.R.V.I.S.” He whispered out loud and all but jumped half a mile off his seat when the voice that answered his painfully introspective comment turned out not to be the comfortingly posh British-accented drawl he'd been expecting.

“I sincerely hope you didn't order your machine to disrupt my work with directions to come here, ASAP, in the hope of having me talk you out of whatever fears you're currently facing, Stark.”

Tony turned towards the open glass door he was pretty sure had been both securely bolted and totally obscured for privacy just a second or so ago and felt like puling off each and every little connection that made up his treacherous douchebag of an A.I. as soon as he got his hands on that two-timing motherboard.  
“Loki, I...”

“Contrary to the conventional war-mongering wisdom of my people I have always believed that a frightened warrior is the only one sane enough to follow the path that will lead him out of the battlefield alive, so you should appeal to one of your precious Avengers for the kind of counsel you're so obviously seeking. I am not... I have never been like Thor, Stark. I don't _want_ to be like Thor. I'm sorry, but I can't help you.”

Tony followed that increasingly agitated little speech with only half an ear, busy as he was ogling the uber-hot object of his every wet dream as he hoovered in the doorway in nothing but the softest, silkiest black pants Tony had ever seen and the pale perfection of his gorgeous bare chest covered from neck to six-pack in softly glowing runes. Loki's long ebony hair had been carelessly woven into a lose plait that must had been slowly unraveling for some time already, because there were charming little locks framing his beautiful narrow face here and there, making him look unbearably young and approachable. Uncharacteristically informal, comfortable and sexy beyond Tony's wildest dreams.

“Sweet mother of rainbony unicorns... What the hell are you wearing? Or, to be 100% accurate because we are both men of science, in a way, what the hell are you _not_ wearing? And, by all that is holy, dude, why the buggering fuck have you failed to _not_ _wear_ _it_ before? ” He growled dazedly, scrambling off the stool in a move that must have disturbed his Alien-wizard something fierce for he stiffened at once and shot him the deadliest what-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are-doing glare in his 'WTF' arsenal even as he straightened to his imposing full height and widened his barefooted stance, adopting a clearly self-defensive posture.

“I don't underst...”

“Barefoot... Jesus fucking Christ on a Pogo stick: You. Are. Currently. Barefoot, Loki. Do you have any idea of how god-dammed hot you look right now?” Tony interrupted him breathlessly, taking a couple of steps towards his increasingly bewildered visitor while feasting his eyes on all that exposed gorgeousness and looking for all the world like a winter-ravenous wolf eyeing the most succulent, plump sheep he'd seen in months.

“Stark...”

“Tony. I thought you were going to call me Tony. I was as chuffed as a bamboo-stuffed koala when you went ahead and called me Anthony the last time we spoke in private. I love it when you say my name in that snotty aristocratic tone of yours, Reindeer. It turns me on like a 100 watt light bulb, babe.” He purred in a tone that somehow managed to shake Loki out of his stupor, judging by the way he lifted that expressive eyebrow of his in a show of unimpressed disgust.

“I take it this means your J.A.R.V.I.S called me down here for nothing? I must encourage you to refrain from giving him free rein to disturb my work so willfully. One of these days you may want me to come by for real and it wouldn't even be reproachable of me to ignore your messenger, Stark. Warriors who call wolf for no reason tend to be abandoned by their peers in the field when the lack of trust they've, so misguidedly, fostered comes back to reap its just rewards.”

Tony swallowed a groan at his crush's obvious lack of interest in his pretty straightforward come-on and attempted to ignore the increasingly frustrated growls of his painfully hard dick in the hope of keeping this maddeningly sexy creature in the room for a while longer.  
“I wasn't crying wolf, pumpkin. I was just... admiring your new working get up. I must say it's a vast improvement on your battle leathers and OMG! I never, ever, imagined there was a costume out there that would look better on you than your to-die-for leather outfit, but this one takes the cake and eats every little crumb left of it before licking the plate clean. Repeatedly.”

Loki frowned, clearly stumped, and looked down at himself in a move that betrayed the kind of charming lack of artifice that Tony would never forgive those stupid Asgardians assholes for fostering on a guy as hot as this one.  
“There is no need to jest. I realize I'm not exactly presentable, but locator runes take their sweet time to settle and mine have to be renewed every three months. The All-father wishes to be able to track my every move whenever the fancy strikes him while I'm trapped here, on Midgard. My ability to evade our gate-keeper's gaze is frowned upon back home nowadays. I was only able to keep it by agreeing to perform this magic on myself for as long as the king deems it necessary.”

Tony gaped and shot a resentful look at the glowing script he'd been so enamored of a millisecond ago.  
“Your dad's forcing you to curse yourself with that magic-what's-its-name so that he can spy on you?”

Emerald green eyes pinned him to the spot with a fierceness that made him shiver.  
“The ruler of Asgard is _not_ my father.”

“Funny that. Since you bear his name and all that, Smurf. He sure doesn't sound like the most enlightened dad in the Universe, but he's doing his best to keep you out of jail, creepy, stalker-like spying notwithstanding. That has to count for something, right?”

“The All-father does as he wills, Stark. I bear his name because he won't allow me to forsake it. There must be more to fatherhood than... ownership. I am not a thing to be labeled as his and then tracked like marked cattle. Liberty is a lovely enough gift, but he didn't grant it free of charge. No wise ruler would ever deliver the punishment he set upon me expecting the oppressed party to feel grateful about it. I have been exiled. I am here under duress. I was sent back to Midgard against my will and I shall not sing the king's praises on his wish alone. I must bend my pride before the monarch of Asgard because that is what he's demanded of me, but he won't be able to force me to love him like a son any longer. Not when he hasn't put the smallest effort into attempting to regain that particular honor.”

Tony felt like applauding enthusiastically but conformed himself with an impressed wolf-whistle, realizing with a painfully uncomfortable jolt that his crush was all but wilting where he stood, crumbling ever so gracefully under the weight of a sorrow he was trying his very best to keep firmly under wraps.  
“Good for you, gorgeous! I love that you are an equal-opportunity grudge machine. It's sort of empowering to know that I'm on the same dog house as the mighty king of Asgard. I mean how many mortal dudes out there get to hang out with mega-majesty himself in this cool kicked-out-for-being-lazy-and-naughty-party you've got going, sweet-cheeks?”

Loki blinked, looking so charmingly bewildered that Tony would have gladly signed off half his trillions for the chance to smooch him to death.  
“I don't understand.”

“You've saddled us both with this 'effort' thing you like so much, hot stuff. We're out in the cold until we can drag our sorry carcasses back into your good graces and I'm happy to report that I'm about to out-do daddy, dearest, already. Woa! I can't believe I'm beating King Tut himself to the finish line, pumpkin. I'm so awed at myself that I could kiss my own posters and I'm telling you, Lokes, you should be considering me at least a little bit hot right about now, peaches. Not every guy out there can go toe to toe with an ancient god and come out smelling like roses.”

Loki looked adorably stumped. His green eyes had rounded with disbelieving incomprehension and the heartbreaking fragility that had hung around his shoulders when he'd been explaining the purpose of the magic runes that were slowly, but certainly, sinking into his pale skin had all but packed up and gone in the face of Tony's shameless grab for his attention.  
“I'm afraid I lost the thread of this conversation five minutes ago and haven't been able to grasp it ever since. It is distressingly difficult to make sense of anything that comes out of your mouth, Stark.”

“That's alright, muffin. I tend to be woefully misunderstood by everyone around me. That's the burden most geniuses carry in this backward planet of mine, you know? And, now that we are so conveniently talking about roses, I want to present you with the first one I haven't actually bought, Loki.” Tony said with as much cocky bravado as he could muster while his heart pounded like a war drum and he could literally feel the cold sweat that dripped down the back of his neck like an unpleasantly frozen snake, stubbornly determined to slither under the cloth of his ratty t-shirt to make his spine crawl.

“What on Midgard are you going on about?”

“Patience, cheekbones-of-doom, good things come to those who wait and all that jazz, you know?” Tony muttered distractedly, hoping all the way to hell and back that he wasn't about to have his fledgling artistic soul crushed like a pile of worthless trash in the next second or so. He took a single deep breath and flashed his God the same self-satisfied smile that almost always set his enemies' blood on murderous rage mode and steeped to the left.

The movement allowed his crush's confused gaze to fall over the cluttered workbench he'd been half-hiding with the bulk of his frame and the inventor was wholeheartedly relieved to witness the disbelieving look of sheer shock that stole over his love's gorgeous features as soon as those breathtaking emerald-colored eyes settled upon the only purely artistic creation Tony Stark had ever made.

Five careful steps brought a clearly entranced Loki right to the workbench and Tony would have seriously kissed the living daylights out of J.A.R.V.I.S for choosing that very moment to lower the main lights and increase the focal illumination that shone directly over the rose, making every small dot that made up the silver frost he'd so painstakingly sprinkled over every delicately rendered petal shimmer under the staged lighting like man-made stardust.  
“This is truly remarkable, Sta— _Anthony_. I would have never guessed you have such talent for art.”

Tony couldn't have hidden his pleasure at the Reindeer's reaction even if he'd wanted to, and he certainly had no inclination to try, so he grinned as broadly as his facial muscles would allow him to and winked cheekily at Loki.  
“I have a talent for taking up impossible challenges and crushing my rival's efforts into dust while I'm at it. I'm a maddening perfectionist to boot, cupcake, and that means I couldn't possibly rest until I found the one flower I could give you that would both outshine Doomy's magical offering and have you deem it worthy of keeping.”

Slender shoulders jerked in surprise and the unraveling plait of long dark hair that was coiled around Loki's left shoulder swung so wildly with the motion that it's feather-soft tip brushed across Tony's bicep.  
“You made this for me?” Loki inquired, clearly incredulous, and although the engineer could have shrugged down nonchalantly and offered him some sort of smart-arsed reply to keep the moment light, he found himself unable to do so. This was his one chance at showing this guy that he could excel at 'effort' if he set his mind to it, and he had absolutely no intention of sabotaging himself at the last possible second.

“I wouldn't have built this for anyone else, Smurf.”

Widened green eyes stared right at him for a long moment, measuring his sincerity with the kind of quiet thoughtfulness that would have sent Tony running from the hills under normal circumstances. His cheeks flushed with discomfort but he dared not lower his gaze a single inch. He had nothing to hide from the creature who'd inspired him to put his heart into a thing that didn't move, didn't talk and couldn't do anything useful at all besides sitting prettily on it's solid silver stand, but still managed to expose the very depths of his own soul, just by existing.  
  
“I expected something grander from you, Anthony. I assumed you'd go for fireworks and speeches. Maybe a specially tailored magic-compatible battle suit you could have talked Fury into forcing me to wear with just the right kind of push, or something equally accomplished you could have bragged about for decades to come.”

Tony swallowed uncomfortably and lowered his gaze to stare blindly at his small offering, wondering if it hadn't been enough after all. If it'd fallen short of... worthy... once again.  
“I don't want Tony Stark, the sleek engineer billionaire, to woo you, Loki. I want Anthony, the man of flesh and blood who hides behind that mask, to be the one who wins you. I think all men in love should try flowers first. They are pure and simple and... truthful. They speak to the heart like nothing else can.”

“What, exactly, is it that your rose is trying to tell me, Anthony? Why is it blue? Why does it have such a faint blush of red at the very core of it? Why did you give it such unnaturally long thorns? Why are its emerald leaves edged with a thick border of silver? Why is it frost-kissed?” Loki demanded to know, enunciating each and every question with a raw-toned intensity that hammered Tony's skin-deep confidence with enough distressed anguish to make it kneel under the relentlessly heavy blows.

“This is you, Loki, just you. This you, not as you present yourself, but as I've learned to see you. The rose's stem is your green and silver Asgardian core: the nature you've embraced, the mask you hide behind. The strength that keeps your vulnerable true self aloft, protected and safe from anyone who dares to try and touch the frost-touched heart you so despise. You are a rose because they are beautiful and sturdy and self-protective to boot. You are a rose because even though my fingers itch to touch you I invariably end up prickling myself with your thorns whenever I try to reach out. You are a rose: _my_ rose. And you are blue and red, just like your true forefathers. But you are also green and silver because you are the only creature in the Nine Realms who is Asgardian and Frost Giant all in one. You are a rose because you are _you._ And you have no need to be anything or anybody else for me to think you exceptional.”

Loki looked absolutely taken aback. His already pale skin had turned the color of newly-fallen snow and his pink lips were half opened into a trembling 'oh' of truly shocked surprise. He looked both lost and uncertain. He looked young and wild and as afraid as a flustered colt about to bolt away from clearly perceived danger. He looked heartbreakingly hesitant and breathtakingly beautiful all at once. Wary, like only a man who'd never been truly seen before in all his years could possibly feel upon being confronted with the first creature to ever acknowledge his existence.  
“I... thank you, Anthony.”

Tony frowned, bitterly disappointed.  
“That's it? Three solid weeks of uncomfortable soul-searching and backbreaking fiddly work and all I've got is _'thank you'_?”

“I'm sorry if my lack of eloquence offends you, but I'm thoroughly unable to find the right words to explain how very deeply your beautiful gift has touched me.”

Tony smiled brightly then and allowed his callused right hand to raise ever so slowly towards those beloved features, swallowing thickly even as he sent his annoyingly jittery nerves packing and took the chance of letting himself become bold enough to brush a wayward lock of long hair away from Loki's pale temple, looping it behind the God's reddening ear with the kind of tenderness he'd never cared enough to bestow on anyone else before now.

It was at that very second, as he looked right into those unconsciously vulnerable-looking green eyes, that Tony Stark finally realized with a hint of pure panicthat he'd never been this gentle. He'd never been this exquisitely careful with anyone before in his entire life. He hadn't given this much of himself even to Pepper. He had most definitely strayed well and truly out of his comfort zone and he was now treading his way through potentially perilous waters.

He smiled nevertheless, and traced a hopefully disarming gentle path down the elegant line of his Alien-wizard's gorgeously defined cheekbone, burning a trail of sheer fire along those clearly wary features until he reached the very tip of Loki's narrow chin. He went one step further and forced his crush to lift that beautiful face upwards, bringing them both into eye-to-eye collision and hoping to high heaven that his own gaze reflected even a fraction of the sheer _want_ that was surging through his body like an unstoppable tsunami.  
“Come out for Sushi with me, gorgeous. I promise to be in my best gentleman-like behavior, as long as you refrain from inviting the entire team along for the ride and Doom stays as far away from you as that evil douchebag can manage.”

Loki chuckled quietly under his breath and the sound soothed something that had been trembling with fear inside Tony's wildly pounding heart long before he heard the God's breathy, disparaging answer.  
“You are impossible, Sta— _Anthony_.”

 “Is that a yes, Reindeer?”  
  
Loki's hesitation was so brief that Tony didn't have enough time to worry about it before the sting it delivered was being thoroughly soothed by the most welcome statement his Trickster had directed at him in the last two years:  
“I... yes. I shall repay your truly outstanding 'effort' with some effort of my own, Anthony. Let it never be said that Loki Liesmith doesn't know how to honor the actions of those who are willing to honor _him_.”

 

**TBC.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter** **6** **.**

 

It was now official: Tony Stark had gone from considering sushi his third most favorite food, following closely behind greasy burgers and pepperoni pizza respectively, to despise it with a fierceness that bordered on actual hatred in twenty minutes flat. He would never, ever again, be able to look at those innocent-looking fluffy rice rolls without having flashbacks to Loki's delighted gaze as he'd focused on his plate with unusual enthusiasm for such a picky eater. The expression of absolute pleasure that invariably flitted through that pale and narrow face whenever those thin lips closed around another mouthful would probably take front stage in Tony's wanking fantasies, starting tonight, if the uncomfortable tightening of his perfectly tailored dark slacks across the crotch area was anything to go by.

_'I can't believe this guy is making me feel irrationally jealous of_ _s_ _ushi, of all things.'_ He thought to himself incredulously as he sat across the table from his blissed-out crush and watched the god enjoy his food with the kind of hazy, definitely-more-than-sexual longing that no one had ever managed to inspire in him before now.

“I don't think I've ever seen you eat anything so enthusiastically, Loki.”

Bright green eyes looked right at him, studying his face for a long, drawn-out second, as their owner rolled his simple enough comment round and round that clever and suspicious mind of his, attempting to find some snide second meaning hiding under words that were never meant to say anything other than exactly what they'd said.  
“I don't understand what you are trying to imply, Stark.” Loki finally responded in a tone that was starting to frost over with enough unwanted distrust to set Tony's teeth on edge.

“I let my lawyers -and possibly Pepper- do all the implying stuff for me, gorgeous. But I, myself, prefer to say exactly what I mean. I'm Tony fucking Stark, dude. I have nothing to fear from anyone and that's why I can afford to say whatever the hell I feel like saying whenever it crosses my mind.”

Loki frowned and looked down towards the table, studying their half eaten meals with strained confusion.  
“That doesn't make any sense. Why would you wish to remark on something as trivial as my preference for this food?”

Tony didn't much care for the hint of honest befuddlement he could read in that question and wondered, for the millionth time or so what the hell was wrong with the bunch of Asgardian assholes who had so thoroughly conditioned this practically perfect mix of gloriously skilled kick-ass sorcerer and off the charts uber hotness to believe that nothing related to him could ever matter to anyone at all.  
“Your likes and dislikes are not trivial, Reindeer. I've been looking forwards to discovering each and every one of them for two years now. I may even have stalked you around the tower a time or two, just to learn what makes you tick. You are the kind of fascinating puzzle that has curious guys like me clawing each other's eyes out for the honor of being the one to figure out how every intriguing little piece fits together to make such gorgeous whole.”

His Alien-wizard's snow-white features paled even further and those eyes: so green, so wary, pinned him to the spot with wounded incomprehension.  
“Now I know you're lying to me, Stark. No one has ever fought another for my attention, let alone went to the trouble involved in clawing out actual eyes. What I can't understand is why you felt the need to fake a romantic interest in my person when the only thing you wanted was to jest about my lack of charms. You could have done that at any time. It's not like I'd have begrudged you the right to... relish... the truth. The Norns know everyone else does, so you would have had plenty of company.”

Tony couldn't help the annoyed growl that escaped his lips as soon as he heard those words and no one, not even the Hulk himself, could have prevented him from shoving his chest forwards until the table pressed so painfully against the skin of his pecs that he could feel every ridge of the wooden frame digging deep groves in his flesh. His right hand shot across the pristine tablecloth, navigating around plates and cups with ease to grab the god's elegant fingers in a fiercely possessive gesture.  
“I may have teased you a bit here and there about plenty of things, but I have never lied to you, Reindeer. I have never, _ever_ , found a single thing wrong with your sky-high sex-appeal, and I'm gonna build a specially designed torture chamber just to teach proper manners to all the douche-bags out there who have been blind enough to miss the fact that you are the hottest thing to walk the universe since bloody Casanova.  
“I'll make every goddamned asshole who ever _'relished_ _'_ your totally fictional ' _lack of charms'_ sob for my mercy and I still won't give it until they eat their own words twice over. I swear on your name that I will do it, Loki. And I don't even give a fucking shit about the possibility that 99.78% of those bastards will turn out to be freaks of the Northern-God-brute variety.”

Loki gaped like a fish out of the water. His long, artistic digits twitched in Tony's hold as he lowered those gorgeously expressive eyes to look down at their entwined hands with the kind of overwhelmed vulnerability that usually preceded his annoyingly predictable episodes of self-protective retreat.  
“Thank you for such impassioned defense of my supposed charms, Anthony, but I...”

“I'll rather take over the conversation, if you're planning on spouting any more nonsense tonight, muffin. And don't even think about doing that green wispy thing of yours, OK? Pulling the vanishing act in the middle of a first date is just not on, dude. You have to suck it up like a man and put up with your bad date all the way to the bitter end. That's how this dance works here on Earth, frosty.”

“How did you even know I was planning to leave? You never gave me that chance to tell you that I...”

“You don't need to spell out everything you're thinking for me to get a pretty good idea of what you're about to do, babe. I've told you this already: I've been dutifully studying your little quirks since I decided to name my so-called heart after you. Wasn't that the uncomfortable admission that drove us down this unexpected glitch in my Give-Sexy-Long-Legs-The-Most-Awesome-First-Date-Of-His-Life foolproof plan?”

Loki blinked for a second or two, clearly startled, before laughing the most charmingly delighted laugh the engineer had ever heard and shooting such heart-stopping, flirty look from underneath thick dark lashes at Tony that the billionaire's breath hitched and his slacks-related crotch problem worsened to unbearable levels of pant-strangulation in the space between one slow, unconsciously coy blink and the next.  
“So you've taken the time to... study... _me._ That sounds flattering, Anthony. What have you learned apart from my preference for sushi then? It should be enlightening to hear what sort of information you've been most interested in seeking, should it not?”

Tony had to bite his tongue to stop himself from moaning like a desperate nymphomaniac on the receiving end of that bloody enthralling sexy purr that had absolutely no trouble messing with his pulse and causing all kinds of really personal, anatomically-Tony-Stark-related _things_ to stand on end and beg for more of that titillatingly playful, breathy, come-hither tone.  
“If you plan to laugh at me for trying everything I could to get to know you better, let me tell you right now that it isn't going to work. I'm not ashamed of liking you, Loki. I'm not ashamed of _you_.”

Tony would have kicked his own ass until it bled when all that entrancing playfulness abandoned his date's features as swiftly as it had arrived. _'Way to kill the mood, hotshot!'_ he thought to himself disparagingly and fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair while his companion stared at him with those uncomfortably expressive green eyes that he had the hunch were never meant to look either this hurt or this confused. Particularly not right after hearing such perfectly innocuous comment.

Something dark and snarly and utterly furious wriggled left and right in Tony's gut as the moment hung and one second stretched into another until a full minute of unbearably suffocating silence had taken over their table. He stared at the half eaten sushi with growing dismay and the undeniable fact that their date had just taken a turn for the worse settled in his mind like a painful little thorn he couldn't shake. He'd said the worst possible thing at the worse possible moment and, although he'd done exactly that in similar circumstances to so many people already that he'd been kind of waiting for the inevitable open-mouth-insert-foot moment to happen, the truth was that he hadn't been expecting it to be triggered by such harmless little comment. He hadn't seen his faux pas coming. Not by an extra-long mile.

Loki should have never, ever, looked so utterly shocked upon receiving the very same kind of reassurance that anyone who had a dotting big brother and had supposedly been raised as the sheltered baby boy of a loving royal family should have heard at least a hundred times a day for the last thousand years or so. Now the fact that the amazingly resilient God of Mischief seemed to be crumbling in the middle of a 'midgardian' sushi bar after hearing someone tell him they were not ashamed of him was making Tony itch to go Thor-hunting as soon as he cleaned up this mess. He'd been nursing the not so pleasant suspicion that things hadn't been as cut and dried as they'd been told when it came to the small 'mental breakdown' that had led to Loki's attempt to conquer New York for some time, and this—whatever the hell it was that was happening right now in his crush's messed up head, did nothing but confirm each and every one of those suspicions in the most unpleasant way possible.

“I swear I'm gonna build you that boat, peaches. I'll find a way to give you the means to get off whatever crazy ride your dad's trying to force you into, so that you -and only you- can get to choose who the fuck gets on your deck. They'll have to follow your rules then, if they want to stay around. They'll all have to find the dammed balls to apologize for all the shit they've done to you instead of blaming you for everything, and sweeping their own mistakes under whatever passes for a heavenly carpet up there, in Asgard.”

Loki chuckled weakly at that. His eyes swept self-consciously upwards and he made the effort to smile, even though there wasn't any mirth whatsoever lighting his beautiful eyes with the same fire they had shown less than a minute ago.  
“We don't have carpets in Asgard. There is nothing but elegant, gleaming floors for as long as the eye can see in the eternal city of gold.”

“Must be great for sock sliding.”

The startled laughter that followed his irreverent quip was a tad less trying-too-hard than his crush's previous attempt and Tony allowed his rigidly held shoulders to relax a little bit. He picked up his chopsticks, loaded them with a random sushi roll and brought the food to his lips as casually as he could manage while Loki's eyes were still focused on him, grimly determined to remind his still clearly melancholic Reindeer of the small but glorious pleasures of life that were so very patiently waiting for the moment when he finally decided to sit up and notice their existence.

“I saw agent Barton doing that once, in your tower. It looked like... fun.”

“You're trying to tell me you've never sock slid?”

“Socks are a midgardian invention. We line our winter boots with heavy fur to preserve heat and wear them all the time.”

“That's... boring.”

“On the contrary. It's simply practical.”

“Yeah. What I said: boring.”

Loki finally chuckled. “You are impossible.” He whispered and shook his head from side to side in a playful gesture of surrender even as his fingers curled around his own chopsticks, allowing him to place a cheerfully decorated rice roll in his mouth in the next second.

Tony watched him close his eyes in simple enjoyment and the moment somehow took on a weight, a magic, of its own. A meaning that was far beyond their current actions and words and jumbled feelings. Loki was happy right now. Loki was here, with him. This instant was exactly what he wanted. What he'd always longed for. What he'd craved like a drug for as long as he could remember. And he suddenly realized that all he needed to be happy was to find a way of hoarding a million moments like this one. He needed to help Loki laugh like this, smile like this, close his eyes in obvious pleasure exactly like he was doing right now and let the rest of the world just... hang.  
“Gosh! You make me want to _be_ sushi so badly that if I could figure out a way to make myself round and short and... fishy... I'd do it in a jiffy, just to get inside that gorgeous mouth of yours, blueberry.”

The Reindeer chocked on his food, turned an adorable shade of beet-red and then proceeded to cough delicately into his napkin in a pretty useless maneuver to cover up his flustered reaction. Tony leaned back and enjoyed the show, going as far as to smirk gleefully when his usually cool mega-master of the spoken word couldn't come up with anything stronger than a pretty annoyed glare and a beautifully strangled:  
“You must behave, Anthony!”

“Tell you what: I promise to behave if you agree to come out on another date with me, hot stuff.”

“Are you seriously attempting to blackmail Asgard's very own Liesmith, Tony Stark?” Loki challenged him and those green eyes danced with such unfettered playfulness that they took his breath away. He'd never seen his crush look quite so mischievous. He'd never seen Loki have... fun.

“That depends on whether you think it could work. Otherwise I'll claim I'm just 'bargaining' for some more of your free time.”

“Hmmm. And what will I get out of this... bargaining... of yours? My free time is precious to me, Anthony.”

Tony thought about it for a second. Frantically weighing all his well rehearsed options in the back of his mind and discarding all of them in the face of the thought he'd been contemplating just a moment before: Fun. He wanted Loki to have fun...  
“What about sock sliding?” He offered on impulse and would have hired himself a henchman just to get his own tongue chopped off if he hadn't been way too busy panicking as soon as Loki started to frown.

“Sock sliding? That sounds...”

“Dumb. It sounds plain and simply dumb, I know. I promise I can do better, Loki. Please I—I wasn't taking the piss or anything, I swear. I was just... I wanted you to have fun.”

“Fun.” Loki repeated that one word as if he'd never heard it before and that was just bloody strange, since he was the God of Mischief and all that jazz. Tony had never doubted the fact that the Reindeer knew how to enjoy himself, but now he wondered if his past joys had come at the cost of his own solitude. Was it possible that no one had ever offered to have fun with this gorgeous, playful creature? Was it possible that his curiosity had been systematically squashed for a thousand fucking years? That his mischievous behavior had been shunned? That he'd been labeled as 'troublesome' simply for being a tad impish in a kingdom filled up to the rafters with nutters who would rather go around hunting dinosaur-like beasts for shits and giggles and bathing themselves in their blood?

“Loki, I...” Tony's words died in his throat as he looked into those eyes and saw nothing short of pure, overwhelmed gratitude. His heart grew heavy and constricted to the point of actual pain in the brief instant it took his beautiful Asgardian prince to swallow past the huge lump trying its best to keep him silent and whisper determinedly out loud:

“Yes. I will go on a second date with you. I want to go sock sliding. I—I... It'd be my honor to have fun with you, Anthony.”

**TBC...**

 


	7. Chapter 7

**** ****Chapter** ** ****7** ** ****.** **

****

Staring with frowning concentration at the growing table of data he'd been collecting over the last three days Tony came to the amusing conclusion that sock sliding was, indeed, a science. Typing another figure into his tablet, he scratched the back of his head distractedly, wondering how long it would take the guys from the polishing company he'd hired to finish the fifth buffing of the east wing's corridor floor, which he'd decided to... redecorate... for his new pet project. He'd have to call Pep in a sec, just to make sure they were done. He needed to go up there and run a few more tests on the re-polished floor before he could sit down with his chart and figure out how much friction he'd managed to shave off his last calculations by doing the floor again.

“Sir.”

Hmmm... Looking at his sock-chart, it was clear that the amount of 'fluff' on the sock had a pretty significant impact on the length of the 'slide' achieved. He eyed the twenty or so long selection he'd finally settled on and wondered if he should run another series of tests on them to narrow his list of 'winners' a bit more or bite the bullet of choice and allow Loki to select his own poison when the moment finally came.

“Sir...”

On the other hand the hiking socks with the cushioned soles had performed really well in all his tests and he was beginning to suspect they'd provide the longest, most comfortable slide of the lot.  Hmmm... Maybe he should scratch the stupid choice idea after all. Who the hell bothered with choice when dealing with science?  Science is all about facts and data and...

“SIR!”

With an irritated sigh, Tony laid down his tablet on the cluttered desk and stared at it intently for a second or two. His fingers twitched with the need to pick it up right away, but he drummed them on the shinny metal surface of his work table and gritted out a thoroughly frustrated:  
“What the hell is so important, J.A.R.V.I.S?  Have you forgotten how to read the most important protocol I put in place when I programmed you, buddy?  You're under strict orders not to disturb daddy when he's working on a puzzle.”

“I strongly advise you to lift up your head and look towards the door. Please.”

“Shit. Pep's here, isn't she?” Tony sighed even more loudly and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his still twitchy fingers, purposefully ignoring his A.I's suggestion while his mind raced like a busy little bee, attempting to estimate how many boring meetings he must have missed for her to come charging all the way down to his lab, after he'd made sure of signing at least a million documents before coming down here, in order to keep her happy for long enough to deal with his research without her interference. “How long has she been standing there, sweet-cables?”

“About forty minutes. And I most emphatically resent your assumption that I'm your Mrs. Potts, Anthony.  Red has never been my color and having such vivid shade of it waving back and forth atop my head will definitely suit me ill.”

The gorgeously sexy, faintly aristocratic drawl that he'd grown to associate with his beloved filled Tony's senses with a warm and unexpected glow of pleasure, and he turned towards the doorway at once, eager to catch sight of the rest of his Reindeer, now that he knew Loki was there.  
“Hey, hot stuff!  What's going on?  I hope you're here on your own free will, muffin. Please, tell me you missed me so dammed hard that you had to come down here in order to allow your eyes to bathe in the glory that is a sleep-deprived, unshaven and definitely reeking Tony Stark, man. You'll crush my tender feelings if you tell me Pepper talked you into helping her stage one of her annoying 'interventions'.”

Loki smiled shyly at him and shook his head from left to right, giving Tony the impression that he wasn't all that comfortable with the idea of being here. He was leaning against the door jamb like a visitor who wasn't exactly certain of his welcome. Or a reluctant messenger who couldn't figure out why, exactly, he'd been selected to deliver whatever it was that he'd been told to say.   
“Shit. She really sent you down to drag me out of my own lab. Didn't she?”

Slightly self-conscious green eyes settled over him, then. Taking in his no doubt crazy appearance before skittering away once again in a gesture that betrayed such adorable bashfulness that Tony's foolish heart all but melted on the spot.  
“The team seems to be under the impression, and I quote: that you've 'lost it'. Looks like all the noise I've been hearing in the last two days didn't mean you had decided to make some necessary upgrades to your abode, as I initially assumed. The Lady Pepper is concerned by the fact that you had exactly 16 feet of carpet installed in the middle of a corridor that apparently leads nowhere except to a long hallway of highly polished marble floor and a cleaning cupboard.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ... They've been gawking at the floor polishing guys like a bunch of half-witted pigeons all this time, haven't they?”

“I don't know. I—the team's usual shenanigans tend to escape my comprehension, so I wasn't aware that there was anything particularly amiss until the Lady Romanov showed up in my chambers, claiming that your current erratic behavior was, somehow, my fault and demanding I come down here and 'do something' before director Fury gets wind of your latest bout of 'typical Stark melodrama.'”

“Ouch! The Russian firecracker must have been spitting mad if she went the 'typical Stark melodrama' route. Did she threaten you with bodily harm if you failed in your mission to knock some sense into me, peaches?  I'd have loved to be a fly on your wall when she tried that.  I bet you kicked her ass fair and square, verbally at least. Tell me you recorded that special edition of 'Duel Of The Titans', J. A. R. V. I. S. I'm gonna watch it with popcorn and all tonight.”

“Of course I recorded it, Sir. It's saved in your private server.”

“What is going on, Anthony?  What are you doing, exactly, and why is everyone so concerned over a few workers scrubbing down your floors?  I don't really understand what I'm meant to be dealing with. Or why everyone is so convinced that I'm the right person do so. I—surely I can't be responsible for whatever it is you've been doing. How could I?  I haven't even seen you since we went out for sushi and you do have a track record of getting crazy ideas and acting on them impulsively of your own accord.”

Now it was Tony's turn to feel self-conscious and he didn't like the weirdness of the feeling in the slightest. He'd never been self-conscious in his life, except maybe when he'd explained that rose thing to Loki, or when he'd been too busy panicking over whether he should give it to the Reindeer or not... _'_ _L_ _ooks like you're turning into a mushy ball of nerves every time this guy so much as blinks in your direction, hot shot. Please,_ _oh!_ _please, learn to_ _show some kind of manly restraint around the sexy bastard and refrain from_ _batting your eyelashes at him or, even worse,_ _bursting out in flirty_ _gigg_ _l_ _es_ _.'_

“Nat's right, gorgeous. I've gone mad and it's all because of you, Lokes. But you already knew that. I told you all this myself, remember?  I'm boy crushing on you, sugar lips.”

Loki blushed to the tips of his ears and swallowed so hard that his pale throat literally shook with the force of the nervous motion.  
“I—what does that have to do with the workers and the carpet and a corridor that leads nowhere but to a cleaning cupboard?”

“Sock sliding, hot stuff. We're going sock sliding.”

Loki blinked.  
“Are you trying to tell me that you're doing—whatever it is you're doing, because I agreed to go sock sliding with you?  I thought that sort of thing is supposed to be spontaneous, like jumping into a huge puddle just to watch dirty water splash all over the place.”

Tony squirmed in his seat and shrugged his shoulders, faking as much nonchalance as he could possibly muster.  
“Yeah. It works pretty much like that for most people. But you are not most people, blueberry. This will be your first time and I want it to be perfect.”

A small gasp of shocked surprise rushed past Loki's lips in the next second and Tony all but swallowed his own tongue when the Asgardian's odd reaction forced him to re-play his exact words. His face heated with the embarrassment of knowing he'd just put his foot in it without meaning to do so, and he shot out of his seat and was right beside Loki before the God had enough time to blink, let alone turn tail and run for the hills as fast as his legs could take him.  
“I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make some crass joke about virginity, I swear.”

Narrowed green eyes pinned him to the spot with nothing but the strength of the deathly seriousness they portrayed.  
“I am not a virgin, Stark. I was having sex long before you were even born. Long before your America was founded. Long before your Midgardian ancestors realized they could use their feeble brains to plan more than their next foray for food.”

“Loki...”

“I've had both one night stands and affairs aplenty. I have fallen in love too many times to count, too. I may be old. And I may have been burned. But I am _not_ inexperienced.”

“I'm sorry, pumpkin. I'm sorry...” Tony crooned softly, raising his right hand at snail-paced speed until his slightly trembling fingertips grazed his crush's narrow chin. He traced back and forth along the sharp line of his sexy god's jaw with careful tenderness and gave this pesky apologizing business a second, harder, try.  _'_ _Geez_ _, I genuinely suck at this.”_  
  
”Don't take half of what I say when I'm sleep-deprived seriously, please. You know I have a filter-free mouth, Reindeer. I meant it when I said my words had come out wrong. I didn't decide to like you because I felt sorry for you.  I don't think you're some sort of godly virginal wallflower, either. I wish you were, to be honest, but that's just me being a greedy prick, because then I wouldn't have to deal with the idea that you've probably bedded more people in your lifetime than I'll manage to poke in both my past and future put together. Try standing in my expensive Italian loafers for a second, blueberry... I'm competing with two thousand-year old viking super-warriors, gorgeously ethereal light elves and all kinds of heavenly, uber-powerful dudes. I'm leaving out the dwarfs and the fire monsters and those deformed lizard things you brought into New York the first time you stopped by, but... yeah. Even after taking all those creeps out of the equation there are still plenty of perfect folks to worry about.”

Loki chuckled weakly and shook his head from left to right, clearly bewildered.  
“Jealous. You are jealous of past lovers who only ever allowed me into their furs to gain either my expertise or access into the Allfather's inner circle... You don't have to worry about any of those vile liars. None of them has a hope of raising past the mud on the sole of your shoes, Anthony.”

Tony smiled self-deprecatingly and cradled the sorcerer's cheekbone with emboldened fingertips, puling that gorgeous dark-haired head downwards until he could press his own forehead up against Loki's pale one.  
“And you don't have to worry about me loving you out of pity or curiosity or whatever the fuck it is you think is fueling my feelings. I'm not seeking to deflower a naive and untouched God and I'm not planning to use you to gain either your expertise or access into your dad's court. I've got expertise of my own, thank you very much, and your father isn't on my list of favorite people at the moment, so... I'll take a pass on the undoubtedly unpleasant experience of meeting him, if it's all the same to you.”

A small, wavering smirk bloomed across Loki's lips in a smile that may have been slightly uncertain but would have still managed to stop New York traffic at high peak without breaking a sweat.  
“The king of Asgard would despise you, Tony Stark. You are far too smart, too... unpredictable... for him to control properly. He wouldn't be able to either relate to you or make you dance to his tune, like he does with everyone else. I love the idea of you two clashing at some point during your lifetime, but I fear what that encounter may do to director Fury's nerves. We'll undoubtedly end up paying for giving another stomach ulcer to the Avenger's fearless leader, will we not?”

Tony broke out into peals of gleeful laughter and pushed backwards a step, lest he ended up surrendering to his increasingly enamored instincts and planted the most soul-sucking of soul-sucking smooches all over Loki's sexy smirk.  
“Anything that can make Fury explode like a supernova is a good thing in my book, pumpkin. I may have to reconsider my stand on meeting your dad now, you know?  We could even use the chance to show him how well we dance to our own tune together. What do you say, peaches, shall we take on the challenge of going toe to toe against daddy, dearest?  You and I, tangoing our way to victory against the heavenly golden cyclops himself... Should be fun to see the shock on his face, if nothing else.”

Loki swallowed heavily and looked slightly away, clearly uncomfortable with the topic, and Tony was a mere muscle twitch away from allowing his ratty trainers to stomp all over his own tongue until the dammed thing learned to have some tact around the Reindeer when the man himself made a rather clumsy, but oh-so-endearingly-welcome, attempt to save the moment.  
“I prefer my fun a tad less... deadly. You promised me sock sliding, Tony Stark, and you have failed to deliver it.”

“I haven't failed. But I'm not ready yet, cheekbones of doom. I'm trying to build you the best sock sliding platform out there. I'm even running some stress and resistance tests on different kinds of socks in an attempt to find you the perfect pair to achieve the longest slide. I'll deliver your afternoon of midgardian-flavored-fun alright and it'll be awesome. You just have to wait a bit more.”

Loki looked at him askance.  
“So this is what the Lady Romanov wanted me to fix... I must say I see her point. You are taking your sock sliding preparations far too seriously.”

Tony shrugged and pushed his hands inside the pockets of his old and stained jeans, forcing himself to look directly at the beautiful green orbs that studied him so intently.  
“I told you this already: I'm putting _effort_. This will be your first time sock sliding. I want you to have fun, Loki.”

“Nobody should put effort into fun. That would spoil the very spirit of it, drain it of the carefree spontaneity that makes it so delightful. Fun cannot be planned, you must allow it to... be.”

“You could have just told me to deliver the goods already. You realize your weirdly poetic dissertation was wasted on my matter-of-fact brain, don't you?”

“I've wasted my words on far less worthy causes. At least you listen to me in your own, chaotic way and that, right there, gives great value to the breath I spend while addressing you.”

“Okkeeey Dokkeeey, Rudolph. Let's skip to the fun part before we get hopelessly tangled in another pit of angst. I have the bad feeling that was a poisoned dart aimed squarely at Thor's head and I hate it when I land in the middle of non-Tony-Stark-related misery. We should limit that sort of stuff to about half-hour a week, unless you're willing to let me get away with less, of course. Because I'm all over that option, blueberry. Yep. Zero hours of non-Tony-Stark-related misery a week sounds as right as most right things can sound to me.”

Loki chuckled under his breath and muttered something about impossible, cheeky midgardians as he bypassed Tony and devoured the distance between the doorway and the desk in three seconds flat. He hovered beside the engineer's abandoned wheelie stool for a moment, looking down at the assorted mess of papers, metal scraps and socks that littered the cluttered table with amazed bewilderment.  
“This is incredible... I have never seen so much unrelated garbage coexisting together atop a single surface. How can you find anything here?  I'll go mad if I had to work on such... untidy... environment for any length of time.”

“Pfft! How you have the balls to claim you're the god of Chaos when you're such a fan of the anally-retentive, pristinely organized desk look I'll never understand. You should be laughing with gleeful delight at having found yourself such rich and attractive earthly acolyte, buttercup. You should be handing out welcome-to-my-sect cookies at the very least. Or kisses. Hmmmm... I most enthusiastically encourage you to start handing out daily kisses to your followers, as long as there's only one of those and he goes by the name of ' _me_.'”

Loki laughed. He honest to goodness opened his mouth and roared a full-bellied, gorgeous laugh that set every tingling cell in Tony's body aflame with toe-curling desire. He stared, stunned, as his God's gorgeous face came to life with unfettered amusement and his knees turned to jelly at the mere sight of his Reindeer like this. Just like this. Exactly like this...

Loki had always been beautiful. But he was exquisite in this moment. Utterly, undeniably, exquisite. It occurred then to Tony that his crush must have been born to spend his entire life laughing. That's why he'd been given the nature of a Trickster, not a mean-spirited one at that either, but a prankster who'd have delighted in being the reason behind the laughter of those who surrounded him. He must have always been meant to grace the universe with this loveliness, no matter what a bunch of disgusting Asgardian motherfuckers had driven him to believe just because they'd had the actual balls to steal the son of a king away from his rightful home, and raise him to feel ashamed of the natural talents he'd been always meant to wield.

Loki had always been a sorcerer and he had always been a Trickster. Those had been the most despised traits of his personality while he'd been growing up and they'd also been the two traits that survived whatever the hell had happened to him, despite his environment's dogged determination to destroy them. They hadn't been browbeaten out of him because they were intrinsic to his nature, like the elegance with which he moved or the slenderness of his frame. It was now pretty obvious to Tony that his Reindeer had been born to be happy enough to laugh all day long. Because no power in the universe would have bothered to create such pure perfection just to stuff it in a drawer and deny it the chance to shine as brightly as possible.  
“I wish you would laugh more often, hot stuff. You could have conquered the world with the power of that smile alone. No need for the creepy lizards whatsoever. Only you, just you, forcing us, earthlings, to bow down to the power of that uber-sexy grin. Your smile is really that awesome, Loki.”

The aforementioned grin became even more amused, and an already fiercely aroused Tony was regaled with a flirty flutter of maddeningly long eyelashes.  
“Flattery is a weapon you wield expertly, my dear Anthony, but you must learn to deliver your promises too, or you'll never be taken seriously by anyone with... high standards.”

Tony swallowed a groan and shifted from foot to foot, trying his best to hide his tormented prick's reaction to all that bloody sexy godliness.  
“Sock sliding... yeah. Anything that lets me get my paws all over you is most certainly a priority right now.”

Loki looked taken aback by his enthusiastic answer but Tony was at the end of his rope already. He was horny, confused, utterly charmed. He was running on fumes and his head hadn't stopped spinning since the moment Loki's prickly formality melted away to reveal this easy-going, warm and delightfully approachable version of his crush.  
“That was—unseemly bold of you, Anthony.  I'm no trollop to be pawed regardless of how many beds I've graced.”

“I get it. I get it. I swear. You're planning to give me the blue balls to end all blue balls before you so much as let me see your left nipple. This is the universal kick in the teeth that your weird fate ladies have devised as payback for all the beds _I've_ graced. Give a dying man a bone and don't tell me off for wanting you, pumpkin. I can't help it anyway. I'm a fucker of the worst order and my mind is probably the dirtiest pit of sin out there, but I promise you I'll behave if it is the last thing I do. I'm in love with you, Loki, and that... that changes everything, sweetheart.  _Everything_.”

His words seemed to have rendered his poor beloved speechless, judging by the vulnerable look that had suddenly taken over Loki's widened stare and the fact that his expressive thin lips had opened to form a slight 'Oh' of shocked fragility.

A moment passed before his flustered Reindeer attempted to hide his flushed face behind the curtain of black hair that fell forwards to veil his profile when he looked towards the table with visible desperation.  
“So... this is a sock.” He mumbled with a strangled tone and leaned forwards to pick a bright orange crew-length between thumb and forefinger. “They look far more... boot-like... when they are on a foot. Where are the fastenings hidden?  The workmanship displayed by your tailors is so fine that I can't make out where they lay.”

Tony couldn't help the loud snort that exploded past his lips even as his openly bewildered stare failed to miss the little signs that betrayed how offended Loki was growing under his shocked scrutiny.  
“You've never worn socks before?”

His crush stiffened from head to foot, which was never a good sign, and spoke with that snotty and careful over-enunciation that usually preceded disaster of the wispy green disappearing act variety.  
“I told you they're a midgardian invention. Why would I have ever developed the need to wear them?  I've managed to live without doing so for two thousand years!”

Tony closed his hand around a flailing wrist, just in case his Reindeer decided to hightail it out of his lab before he could sort out this mess, and spoke as softly as he dared:  
“Hey... calm down, sugar lips. I wasn't laughing at you, Loki. I was just behaving like a dick, as usual. Come on, babe, you know I've got no tact whatsoever, so don't hammer me down for my natural failings. Why don't you choose a pair among this lot, so I can go down on bended knee and put them on you like a proper, fairy-tale gentleman, eh?  That should get us over this hurdle nicely enough.”

Loki dropped the sock he was still holding as if it'd woken up and chewed his hand right off. He then went as far as to pointedly take a step backwards, looking absolutely appalled at the very thought of letting a peasant 'midgardian' anywhere near his heavenly toes.  
“No. Oh, no. I couldn't possibly humiliate you like that. We have servants who do that sort of thing in Asgard, Anthony. Forcing a fellow warrior to perform such menial task is a great insult indeed.”

“Hey, hey, listen to me, peaches: I don't care if blatant warrior-to-warrior toe-baring isn't done where you come from. We don't have servants over here, Loki, and in this neck of the woods a foot is just that: a foot. Picking yours up in order to slip a pair of socks on isn't going to offend me in the slightest, buddy. On the contrary, it'll probably turn me on like a 100 watt light bulb.”

“You don't understand. I can magic the thing on myself without any trouble whatsoever. I—there's no need at all for you to touch me like that. We can both preserve our dignity and...”

Tony made a grab for the skittish little bastard and shook him lightly, but with feeling.  
“You are the one who doesn't understand, so let me spell it out for you in the simplest terms of all: I. Am. Dying. To. Get. My. Paws. On. You.  I want to touch you all the time. I want to touch you everywhere.  Anywhere. For as long and as boldly as you let me get away with, and I... I'd be dammed pleased—No. Scratch that. I'd be fucking _honored_ to put those bloody socks on you, Loki.”

“Honored. You'd be honored to— _Honored_...” The smurf kept repeating that one word again and again with the kind of shaken, thoroughly overwhelmed tone that helped Tony realize he'd just managed to make mincemeat of Loki's formidable emotional defenses. His gorgeous sorcerer was wide-eyed and dazed, looking inwards towards some awfully dark place that had remained purposely closed off for way too fucking long.

Tony's heart jumped to his throat as he stared right at Loki and caught his very first glimpse of the lonely child within. This was his crush as he must have always been: a kid who'd been both lost and abandoned long before he even knew how to cope with his own loneliness. This was Loki as he didn't want to be any longer: a hungry soul whose ravenous need for affection scared him so completely that he'd locked it deep inside and thrown away the key. This was a Loki that hadn't been seen for years. A Loki that flailed and wavered and wanted and needed... so much. This was Loki undone and vulnerable. Frightened right out of his mind.  
“Hey, don't faint on me, princess. It'll suck balls if it turns out I made you sick when I only wanted to put some socks on you.”

Loki failed to laugh at his teasing little quip, but made the attempt to sooth his ego with a small smile that tried, but couldn't quite alter the tear-bright intensity of his gorgeous green eyes.  
“Do not cheapen what you've offered me, Anthony. I have never been sought out without ulterior motives before. I don't know how to react to that at all. I don't know how to react to _you_. And I'm afraid I lack the words to tell you how very deeply you've touched me, just now.”

“Loki, please, don't...”

“Do not fret, my witty mortal, for I'll let you go back to your word games in just a second. I need to tell you first that I know you aren't all crazy brashness and bravado. You can be sensitive when you want to be, Anthony. You see more than you ever admit to, and you... you _care_ , deep down, where it matters. I could grow to love that about you with a fierceness that scares me.”

Tony's heart was so full of... stuff... that it threatened to burst right there and then. His brown eyes rounded like marbles and he blinked in overwhelmed reaction to the hope that was now raising inside him like a waking giant.  
“You'll give me a heart attack if you keep talking like that, Reindeer. I may not deserve your high praise but I won't let go of the love, if you're planning to bestow it.”

Loki shook his head at that and rewarded his latest attempt at misdirection with a full-on indulgent smile.  
“You shouldn't run so far ahead of yourself, man of Iron. I said I could love you, not that I have plans to gift you with such affection at this point. That kind of regard must be earned and you haven't done so yet.”

“I'll have you know that I've never, so far, failed to 'earn' whatever prize I've coveted. I'm Tony Stark, hot stuff, there's no prince in Asgardian armor I can't charm with a spot of sock-sliding or two. Why, I even have the perfect pair of socks available right here. Take a look. Aren't these absolutely awesome? They should look pretty ravishing on you.”

His crush stared in horrified fascination at the eye-popping pair of fluorescent tie-dye socks in question.  
“That must be the most hideous thing I've ever seen.”

“Should be fun to wear them, then.”

Loki blinked, hovering between agreement and denial for a second. Then his narrow face brightened with playful glee and he laughed like a madman as he hopped onto the wheelie stool that served as Tony's desk chair.  
“Go on then.” He whispered softly, vanishing his tall leather boots with a careless flick of his fingers and wiggling his toes invitingly. “Inflict those crimes against sock fashion upon me, Anthony.”

Tony swallowed a groan and dropped down to his knees, feeling lightheaded and weak just from being given the chance to feast his eyes on that elegant arch and those delicate, bony ankles.  
“You have the feet of a God.” He praised inanely and Loki burst out in delighted giggles.

“I should. I am a God, after all.”

“I didn't mean it like that.” Tony pouted, cradling a boot-warmed heel in the palm of his hand.

“And how did you mean it?” Loki purred playfully and Tony couldn't help himself any longer, so he raised the foot he was holding and placed the most reverent of kisses in the middle of his sorcerer's pale arch. “I meant it like this, Loki of Asgard. You have the kind of feet that should be worshiped with kisses and licks and open-mouthed nibbles.”

Loki's breath hitched and he pinned Tony to the spot with the brightness of his eyes:   
“You are far too forwards, mortal.” He scolded, but there was a roughness to his voice that spoke of burgeoning arousal.

“Don't tease me then, until you're ready, because I want you like this with every breath I take.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have teased you for my own amusement. That was unnecessarily cruel of me and I deeply regret it. Please, forgive me, Anthony.” Loki was the one who gulped then, his pale complexion blushed to a deep crimson and his gaze lowered so demurely that Tony all but swallowed his own tongue as his cock rose like a wagging tail, enthusiastically determined to wave hello to the beautifully shy masterpiece it was desperate to bang.  _'Sweet, hippy Jesus on a Pogo stick, this sexy fucker is gonna to be the death of me.'_

“That's alright, gorgeous, there was no harm done.” He mumbled clumsily and proceeded to concentrate for all he was worth on covering the sorcerer's bare feet with the garish socks they'd chosen.

His usually nimble, steady, _useful_ fingers became a clumsy gaggle of inept thumbs that struggled something fierce to pull up that pair of socks. The small deed took veritable ages of loud silence, ferocious arousal and skin-prickling awareness of how very close they both were to one another. Tony's nerves were shot to hell by the time he stood back on unsteady feet and gathered enough strength to whisper:  
“We have to go up to my floor. I—The polished corridor in question is there.”

“Why can't we try it here first? We're both here. We have socks, and I want my first time to be somewhere close to your heart, Anthony. I want this memory to make you smile and think of me fondly while you're working on this desk in the future. I want to make a place for myself among your passions.”

“OMG! that's just—come here, hot stuff.” Tony said roughly and had to close his burning eyes for a second or two when Loki hopped off the stool without a single hesitation and nestled himself right into the curve of his slightly opened arms. He had never had his crush so close before. He had never felt every line of that maddeningly sexy body plastered all over the front of his own tortuously aroused form. He had never realized Loki's hair smelled like a rain-washed forest or had been given the opportunity to notice the small birthmark behind his left ear.

“Ready whenever you are, oh, great sock sliding master.” Loki's cheeky ribbing prompted him to take gentle hold of a long-fingered hand with his own. He forgot all about kinetic friction, floor and air resistance, optimum angles and desirable starting up speeds in the next second. He forgot everything that wasn't the slightly cold feel of Loki's elegant fingers holding tightly onto his own and that beautiful face, so eager, so intrigued, so very ready to be dazzled, looking down at him in search of... guidance.

He whooped loudly and launched into a fast paced race towards the relatively tidy space that opened up at the center of the lab, dragging a squealing Loki along with him. He reached the middle of the room and angled his body slightly downwards letting his socked feet begin to skid across the polished surface and feeling first the slight jolt and then the wobble of Loki's first, ever, sock slide travel up his arm like a soft wave.   
  
Loki laughed as he found his balance and... glided, and the sound was both loud and carefree. He literally twinkled with delight and looked so exhilarated that Tony would have given half his fortune just to keep him here forever, safe and sound in a place where he could grow to be happier that he'd ever been before. Where he could grow to be confident. Where he would be allowed -and even encouraged- to giggle himself into exhaustion every bloody day of the year.

“Again. Again!” He demanded as soon as they came to a full stop and Tony's foolish heart curled itself around the God's little finger as he suddenly realized he'd become officially addicted to the look of sheer delight shining brightly in those green eyes.

“Of course we'll do it again, sweetheart. We'll keep doing it until our legs start trembling and the socks fall off our feet in ratty ribbons, if that's what it takes to keep you laughing like this, Loki.” He vowed fervently and, pulling his companion closer, rose up on his tiptoes and planted an impulsive little kiss on the tip of Loki's nose.

His sorcerer's expression lost its playful mirth, reacting to such small gesture with unwarranted solemnity. Tony saw his mouth open and heard his thoroughly flustered:  “Anthony...”  but he had absolutely no intention of letting him spoil the moment with whatever decorous statement he planned to make.

“Ssshhh, Reindeer, just... ssshhh. Let's have fun for today, alright?  We'll have all the time in the world for the serious stuff tomorrow.” Green eyes frowned with reluctance even as their owner gave a cautious nod of acquiescence and Tony wasted no more time in grabbing those elegant fingers again and racing towards the middle of the room like a lunatic. His blood sang inside his veins and his breath hitched with eager exhilaration as he reached the right spot and allowed his socked feet to skid along the floor once more, feeling his senses drown in the perfect mix created by the rush of their childish game, the coolness of Loki's hand draining the warmth of his own ever so slowly and the sound of his crush's laughter twinkling, like bells, in his ears.

 

**TBC.**

 


	8. Chapter 8

**** ****Chapter 8** ** ****.** **

 

Little, fiddly Hors d'oevres had never been Tony's thing. He liked the stuff well enough in a pinch, but it couldn't compare to pizza. Loki, on the other hand, was most definitely _not_ a pizza man. He didn't like whiskey, or coffee for that matter. Thinking properly about it the Reindeer didn't like anything Tony himself liked and that was just... weird.

Now, looking at the uncharacteristically sparkling clean counter of his private kitchen, which he'd just had professionally disinfected four-times in the last six hours, because, seriously, the last time he'd used the thing someone's naked ass had been definitely parked in the middle of it, he searched high and low for the boulder of annoyance he should be feeling right now and could find no trace of it.

It looked like he had absolutely no qualms about the fact that he'd felt driven to remove all traces of his perfectly messy approach to genius from a place that was supposed to be his and his alone. His own little kingdom. His Sanctum Sanctorum. A Stark tailored haven where nobody's needs, likes and dislikes should have ever been allowed to matter. And yet they had. Loki's preferences had already changed something crucial about both this space and the man who owned it. They had given Tony's usually chaotic energy a sense of direction. A purpose beyond the mere miracle of existing. A goal to strive towards. Someone 'real' to fight for.

“Shit. I have it bad. I have it so bloody bad... I've just turned my perfectly stinky kitchen into the kind of place you could lick food off the floor and survive to tell the tale and that's just... a million shades of wrong. I'm doomed, Jeeves, abso-fucking-lutely doomed. That's what that sexy Reindeer has done to me.”

“For what it's worth I like the new kitchen decor. It's much more... hygienic.”

“Hygienic, pfft! Now you're sounding just like Pepper, sweet-chip. I bet she'd like this too. Christ! What am I gonna do when she cottons onto how easily Loki could convince me to do just about anything under the sun? I'll end up doing bloody yoga and sipping pureed cauliflower as soon as they team up, and they will. Pepper's gonna think of it eventually. OMG! I need a drink.”

“Is that wise, Sir? You mentioned earlier your reluctance to spoil your evening with, and I quote: 'more drunken-driven stupidity than Loki can bear so early on in the game.”

Tony looked towards the coffee table that he'd personally crammed full of as many outrageously fiddly finger foods as he'd had the patience to assemble together with his own obviously-meant-for-much-more-important-tasks-than-this two hands and, determinedly ignoring the lopsided state of most hopelessly mangled items, stared at the dismally alcohol-free selection he'd put on display with dawning horror: apple juice. Orange juice. Herbal tea. Bottled water... _'WTF?_ _There's not even a beer_ _i_ _n sight._ _I must have been out of my mind.'_

His momentary thirst vanished when confronted with all those beverages from hell and he sighed the biggest put-upon sigh in his put-upon sigh repertoire. The one he'd always reserved specifically for Pepper's requests for him to attend boring fundraisers:

“You should have warned me, J.A.R.V.I.S. I'm pretty sure I programmed you to do so, and even if I was stupid enough to make that oversight, you still have the smarts to realize you were supposed to feel morally compelled to warn me about the possible demise of my Starkness.”

“Your _Starkness_? I'm afraid that doesn't make any sense, Sir.”

A self-deprecating smirk flitted through Tony's lips as he gestured with mounting panic towards the delicate-looking food resting so innocently upon gleaming silver trays.  
“I'm talking about this, buddy. I can't understand what possessed you to let me fall for the kind of guy who drools over stuffy upper-lip royally things like tea and cream puffs.”

“Mr. Odinson also enjoys violin concertos, opera arias and anything written by William Shakespeare.”

A fond smile lit Tony's features at that and he shook his head from left to right, remembering Loki's first few months with the team. That had been an eye-opening experience for everyone involved.  
“I hope you still got that full frontal shot of the horror in Clint's face the day he heard Loki singing along to Pavarotti for the first time saved around somewhere, Jarvs.”

“The entire exchange was recorded, encrypted and saved into your personal files within twenty seconds of it happening, Sir. Agent Barton has unsuccessfully attempted to search for it a few times, but has never managed to access it.”

Tony chuckled:  
“That sneaky bastard. Make sure he keeps on failing to get his destructive, little paws on my blackmailing material, Wall-e. It'd be amusing to slip the video into the TV feed one of these days, just to see our little Robin Hood squirm like mad as he watches himself freak out over Loki's singing choices all over again.”

“In the spirit of fairness I must point out that Agent Barton wasn't the only one freaked out by Mr. Odinson's peculiar taste, Sir.”

“No, he wasn't.” Tony agreed, easily recalling how convinced they had all been that the God of Mischief was taking the piss, going as far as to put up with what they'd assumed was a fake predilection for vintage stuff in an effort to make sure he tired of his game all the sooner. That all important 'sooner' had never arrived, though. Because Loki hadn't been faking it at all and, by the time he'd been around for a year, they'd been forced to acknowledge he wasn't trying to drive them up the wall with his ridiculous choices. No. The annoying bloody bastard actually loved all that pompous, old-fashioned stuff. His strong leaning towards fussily cut finger-foods such as broccoli florets, grapes and carrot sticks was also real, along with his deplorable fascination for fruit juices, vegetable shakes and all the other shiver-inducing healthy stuff that only honest to goodness nutters and cows would ever dare to eat. _'Or a Reindeer...'_

Tony smirked mischievously at his own joke, pushing himself away from the kitchen's counter and walking nervously towards the coffee table. He drummed restless fingers on the top of his thigh and pursed his lips like a frumpy old spinster every time he caught himself checking his wristwatch impatiently.  
“I can't believe I've dolled myself up like an eager tart for that sexy bastard and he's planning to stand me up.”

“I feel obliged to remind you that, since you tend to... pounce... on your partners while wearing prohibitively expensive tuxedos, a clean pair of ancient jeans and a smart polo shirt hardly qualify as 'dolling up', Sir.”

“I never wear the tuxedos for the pouncing, smart-chip. I wear them for whatever boring shindig Pepper has managed to drag me to and you know it. The conquests are just a side effect of my charming personality and tuxedo-related-sex-appeal.”

“You should have worn the tuxedo, then, since the infallibility of its 'sex-appeal' has been so extensively tested.”

Tony rolled his eyes, frustrated beyond belief by his cold-hearted A.I's unsympathetic attitude and checked his wrist watch for the tenth time in the last three seconds.  
“I'll look like a right idiot if I show up wearing a Tux for a cozy movie date in my own apartment, Jeeves.”

“You could have always canceled the cozy date and used the opera tickets you bought for the occasion. I still can't understand why you felt the need to stray so far away from the plan that you, yourself, outlined. Those tickets were pretty hard to get. Any opera lover would have been ecstatic at your choice of venue for a third date.”

Tony huffed.  
“Loki isn't just an opera lover. He's... complicated. He's more into peace and quiet than I ever realized and I get the feeling he'd choose a stay-at-home set up over a public appearance where he'll be expected to hang prettily from my arm and smile for the cameras any day of the week. He likes books about poetry and philosophy. He listens to classical music with that wide grin on his face. He's been lecturing poor Fury about relaxation techniques and his first approach to a fight is _diplomacy_. The man's a scholar not a rock star, buddy. He couldn't had been more different from Thor if he tried.”

“I still think he'd have loved the opera.”

“Well, I wasn't ready to risk it. I didn't spend the last two years jumping through every bloody hoop in the Nine Realms to get this guy's attention just to drop the ball at the last second. I've worked pretty hard to get this far and I have absolutely no intention of sharing 'my special moment' with a literal ton of gawkers, every member of the press who can make it to the place before we leave and an entire concert hall filled to the rafters with star-struck civilians. Plus the orchestra players, the technical crew, a whole bunch of fat singers and, last but not least, the pimple-faced parking valets.”

“That's unusually... possessive... of you, Sir.”

“So what? I _feel_ possessive. I love the bastard, Ok? I built him a fucking flower, J.A.R.V.I.S! And why the hell isn't he here already? I'm freaking out something fierce about this date, and I've never freaked out over a date in my entire life.”

“My guess is that he isn't here because he still has fifteen minutes to spend before he's due to show up at your door. It is not Mr. Odinson's fault that you are running uncharacteristically ahead of schedule.”

“Jesus, Jarvs, couldn't you just have said 'chillax, Romeo' and saved me the roundabout lecture?”

“I'm trying to help.”

“And I'm not in the mood for help. I'm in the mood for Loki, so where the hell is he?”

“Your date is currently reading a book in his room. He is waiting for the clock to chime the hour so that he can teleport himself here. He's dressed pretty much like you are, although he's wearing a scarlet scarf around his neck. It is edged with a bold golden design and I've watched him dither over whether to wear it or not for well over an hour. I don't think he plans to 'ditch you', Sir. I think his decision to wear _your_ colors is what most people would call _effort_ , and you didn't have to wait two years for him to pick the right way to honor you, if I may say so myself.”

Tony gaped at the nearest camera he could find with the kind of befuddled expression he was pretty sure his devious creation was secretly delighting in recording for posterity, but his dazed brain couldn't concentrate on J.A.R.V.I.S' underhanded scheming right now.  
“Let me get this straight, A.W.E.S.O.M.E—O, Loki: black on green and silver Loki, Sexy-Long-Legs extraordinaire himself, is wearing red and gold? He's willingly wearing his brother's colors, just because I favor them... That's huge, isn't it, buddy? That's not cheap, movie-date material. He's gonna show up here and see me in this crappy get up with nothing but mangled carrot sticks and other what's-their-name disgusting healthy snacks for a meal and think I'm having him on. He's gonna be totally furious with how little 'effort' I've put into this date and then he's gonna do that green-smokey-puff thing he does so well and disappear on me. Isn't he?”

“That depends on whether I think the crappy get up and the mangled carrot sticks are the easy way out for you or not, Anthony.”

Tony jumped a mile high and whirled towards the doorway in quick succession, blushing like a starstruck schoolgirl even as his widened brown gaze zeroed on the red and gold colored scarf looped casually around his alien wizard's swan-like neck.  
“Loki, I'm sorry. I'm so bloody sorry. You look—OMG. Oh, My. Fucking. God! I can't believe you're wearing _my_ colors while I... I look like shit and my cooking skills suck, even though I didn't cook at all. Just cut every piece of healthy stuff I could find in Brucie's fridge and arranged it on the platters to make it look artistic. But it just looks like a bomb detonated all over the food, instead.”

Loki walked towards him hesitantly and stopped just shy of the coffee table, staring down at the silver trays Tony had spent veritable hours preparing to the best of his ability with strangely somber eyes.  
“There is no need to fret so. The food looks... a bit like your desk, I think. It's all various mismatched pieces clumped together to form something that oozes that unique Tony-Stark brand of messy charm that only you can do. Your clothes may not be the most elegant I've seen you in, but they suit the peaceful setting you've created and I... I like them.”

“But you put so much thought into your outfit, Loki, and I—I...”

“I wasn't trying to imply anything heavy with my choice of attire. It was just that I realized that, although you share your tower with all and sundry, your private apartment has always been off limits to everyone. I wanted to do something to acknowledge how very grateful I am for the trust you're placing upon me, Anthony, and now I am the one who is sorry. I wanted to honor you in this small way, and ended up ruining our date before it had begun. I apologize for my ill-timed gesture and I—I can make this scarf disappear right now, if you so desire.” Loki offered, lowering his beautiful green eyes towards the floor in a gesture that looked so shy, so hurt and utterly uncertain that Tony couldn't bear the thought that he'd managed to make this gorgeous, sensitive creature feel rejected for even a second.

“Don't do that, muffin, please. I like that scarf something fierce. I like it so much that I'm thinking of starting up a petition to have it permanently glued to your neck. How many signatures do you reckon it'll take to make the request reach Fury's ears? It'd be awesome to see his eyeball explode with the stress of it all when he's telling me off.”

Loki chuckled weakly and blushed as bright red as the scarf around his neck.  
“You don't have to lie to protect my feelings. I don't know what I was thinking... I should have realized you'd overreact to my actions, but they didn't seem like such a big a deal to me at the time. I've never had an official suitor before, Anthony. I'm more used to fucking in the spur of the moment or as part of cloak and dagger political seduction. This straightforward... dating... you've dragged me into is uncharted territory for me. I'm not really sure how to behave around you and that's why I'm making such stupid mistakes. ”

Tony gulped so hard he felt the back of his throat ache with it and wouldn't had been able to hold back the trembling hand he lifted to grab hold of the few wispy locks that framed his prince's gorgeous face if his life had depended on it. He smiled tremulously into those wary green eyes and looped the midnight colored hair he'd just captured behind a slowly reddening ear with a tenderness that frightened him.  
“So this is the blind leading the one-eyed... Oh, shit! kill me fast now. Because I've just likened one of us to dear old Fury and, since I'm pretty sure I can't pull the pirate look to save my ass, that means I'm in luuuurve with the sorcerer version of captain Hook.”

Loki spluttered with indignation.  
“That's just... No. Absolutely not, Anthony. I may be able to do justice to the frock coat, the velvet vest, mid-calf breeches and even the lace jabots, but I draw the line at the ghastly curly wig and thin, pretentious mustache.”

Tony laughed at the mental image and felt himself relax for the first time since his crush had entered the room. Amused brown eyes raked the lovely features before him and the breath caught in his chest as he attempted, and easily managed, to picture it covered in roguish stubble.  
“I don't know about the mustache, but I'd pay to see you sporting a five o'clock shadow. I'd bet it looks even more awesome on you than it does on me, and I have it on good authority that _my_ five o'clock is the bee's knees.”

Loki looked at him askance.  
“Competition... I'd have thought you wouldn't be comfortable with that sort of conflict between us. Why would you wish to engage in such petty rivalry when you claim to desire romantic togetherness?”

The engineer pushed himself up on his tiptoes and leaned abruptly forwards, catching the back of Loki's head with his callused hands in a move that literally oozed ruffled indignation.  
“Whoever taught you you can't challenge those you love was a bastard of the first order and a damned idiot to boot. Competition is the bread and butter of growth. I can handle your being better at magic and strategy and even bloody poetry than I'll ever be. I can handle it because I'm proud of your abilities, your interests and all of your achievements. I'm fucking proud of you, buttercup, and I sincerely hope that somewhere, deep inside, you're at least a little bit proud of me, too.”

Loki's green eyes were as wide as saucers and, even though the smile that curled his mouth upwards wasn't quite up to his usual playful standard, he lifted his own hands up and framed Tony's face with his long fingers, mirroring the hold the engineer had on him for long enough to whisper a mere breath away from his lips:  
“If I had the power to live all my life in the same instant, I would choose this one, Anthony. You will never understand how remarkable you are, because in order to do so you would have had to spend two thousand years living among ruffians cloaked in bejeweled gowns and warriors whose idea of honor lies not in preserving lives, but in taking them as violently as possible. I could never wish for your soul to be so tainted, for that would have destroyed the beautiful man you've become.”

“Loki...”

“Yes. Of course. I'm... sorry. I know this kind of serious talk makes you uncomfortable, my silly mortal. So I'm going to heed your plea for emotional levity and smile at whatever nonsense you spout next. I just... I wish I had found you earlier. I wish it was possible for me to remember the first time I ever saw you without feeling ashamed of the monster I was back then.”

Tony's heart clenched with pain at the horrible self-hatred he could hear in Loki's voice. He could see it in his eyes too. Felt it trying to choke the budding hope for a better future out of his Reindeer's dreams like a clinging vine wraps it's deadly tendrils onto an early blooming bush.  
“I've been a monster too, cupcake. I've got innocent blood on my hands and I did it all for money, which is far more cold-hearted a reason to destroy so much humanity than whatever it is that pushed you over the edge, so don't you dare beat yourself up over a past that's been done and dusted for ages. The only Avenger without any claim to shame is good ol' Rogers, and even he will be tainted by the pesky motherfucker, if he fights for long enough.”

Loki swallowed uncomfortably and let go of Tony's face, taking a wobbly step backwards in a motion that screamed self-defense. Bruised looking green eyes skittered around the room, as if searching for an anchor, until they finally found it in the rows of silver trays with their cargo of mangled vegetables that waited silently on the table.  
“Carrots... I love carrots.” He said shakily, bending down to pick a roughly cut orange stick with the kind of white-knuckled desperation that spoke of heavy locks clamping tightly shut for the rest of eternity.

Tony wanted to protest, tell him to stop playing his own role, since he couldn't pull it off properly, and demand to know what was wrong, but he couldn't force his crush to share his demons when he looked so fragile. He stared unblinkingly at Loki, watching him nibble his snack ever so daintily and suddenly realized that he hadn't done anything to show his reeling God that he wasn't planning to stay around only for the good times. Fun... he'd offered sushi and fun so far, but he wanted so much more than that. He wanted everything, really. And he had every intention of remaining glued to his seat for the entire performance, if possible. He wanted to witness the beautiful and the ugly. The remarkable, the unspeakable and even the plainly mundane.

“Maybe you should lay off the bunny cigars for a bit, pumpkin. I mean, there are a whole lot of other stuff that won't mess quite as much with your manly image. You know what they say about them, don't you, babe? A carrot a day keeps the PMS at bay. That's why Nat likes them so much, I think.”

Loki blinked and lowered his half-eaten carrot very slowly.  
“PMS—That's the... womanly... affliction, isn't it?”

“If you're talking about the one that turns usually perfectly lovely ladies into terrifying ogres then: yep, that's the one. I managed to program a projection of Pepper's cycle into J.A.R.V.I.S' memory ages ago. I've been avoiding her like the plague when she's on the war path for years.”

Loki looked absolutely aghast.  
“You must be joking.”

“Nope. It's true. I live in fear of my PA's hormonal mood swings. There's no shame in recognizing the truth, bluebell. Any half-witted man with a healthy self-preservation instinct should have taken this page out of my book decades ago.”

“The Lady Natasha would have ripped your head off, if she'd heard that, and I simply can't imagine what the Lady Sif would have done if you'd ever dared to imply in her presence that she's naturally inclined to behave less fiercely at certain times of the month.”

“I take it this Lady Sif is the scary looking chick who sometimes accompanies your brother down from home?” Tony asked, settling down on the couch and patting the cushion beside him, in the hope of encouraging Loki to copy his example. His crush's wary green eyes followed the gesture, but the man himself frowned down at the carrot he still held between thumb and forefinger, clearly ambivalent about the wisdom of sitting quite so closely.

“Yes. She's been one of Thor's faithful companions since childhood.”

“Only Thor's? I'd have thought your brother's childhood friends would be yours, too. Didn't you all grow up together?”

“My brother's friends are like my brother himself. They have little time for anyone who isn't interested in learning a hundred ways to kill an enemy before breakfast. There was a time when they may have not liked me much, but decided to tolerate my presence for Thor's sake. The lady Sif remained the only exception to that arrangement. She despises me. She has always done so.”

“Most women do, blueberry. You have fabulous hair.” Tony shrugged and grabbed a broccoli floret, popped it into his mouth without a single grimace and chewed it as little as possible before swallowing it down like a bad medicine. _'Gosh! I hope there's something_ _else_ _out there -other than even more herbs-_ _that_ _this guy is willing to eat, or I'm go_ _nna_ _turn into one of those suckers who hides packets of greasy chips in little drawers_ _and stuffs his mouth while 'the boss' is away_ _.'_

Loki gaped at him, blinking in utter confusion, and swayed ever so slightly closer to the couch, which was the only thing that mattered to Tony at this point. “What does my hair have to do with anything?” his poor crush asked, and the engineer could have jumped for joy at being so handily given the opportunity to hammer his advantage so far down his skittish kitten's unsuspecting gullet that the poor thing would end up collapsing next to him in order to recover from the sudden attack of the vapors he was about to give him.

“Your hair has everything to do with it, buttercup. That and your eyelashes. Look at them... there are so long and so fucking black that I'm surprised you still have them. Women must have been plotting ways to pluck them off your face for as long as you've been alive, because, trust me on this, there isn't a lady on Earth who wouldn't kill you for them.”

“That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.”

“Nah! It's the plain and simple truth. Look at you, gorgeous: You. Are. A. Fucking. Dreamboat. On. Wheels, man. Seriously, you're so hot you're radioactive and this Sif chick hates you, just like they all do, because you have all that creamy skin that practically begs men to touch it and she doesn't. You have a smile that's on the right side of sinful, a pair of feet made to be worshiped from sunup to sundown and your eyes... don't even get me started about your eyes, because then we'd be stuck here talking about how awesome they are until someone digs our mummified bodies off this couch in a thousand years or so.”

Loki looked so startled that Tony was sure he'd topple like a house of cards if he so much as blew in his direction, but instead of collapsing on the couch, as planned, his frustrating reindeer straightened to his full height as if drawing a shield to cover some obvious weakness he couldn't bear to expose, and looked dazedly into the shadowy darkness that lurked beyond the corridor.  
“I lack the kind of... musculature... others often find desirable.” He offered after a second in a voice that was so small, Tony had to strain to hear it. “I am too slender and too pale. I've never been able to inspire mindless lust in anyone, so far. I'm... not even ugly in the eyes of my people, because even the ugly are strong, Anthony. Even the ugly have golden skin under the scars they've won in battle. Even the ugly could break my fragile little body like a winter-dry twig, if I ever played by their rules. If I didn't _cheat_ with magic.”

Tony's gut started churning with indignation half way through that fat pile of BS, but that wasn't what was bothering him the most about it all. No. What bothered him the most was the way his crush had become as stiff as a board from head to toes. The way his voice had all but flattened into an emotionless monotone that spoke of intense self-control. Loki looked like a shadow of himself. Like an echo or a wisp or a... front... that had been put together way too hastily. He looked like most men who are emotionally retreating often look: cold and detached and filled with a carelessness that could only be skin deep.  
“That's nonsense, babe. You told me the other day you've had loads of lovers. No crazy, bloodthirsty warrior would get it up for a guy they don't really fancy. Isn't homosexuality a bit of a taboo among you lot?”

“There is no shame in bedding men in Asgard, as long as you are not the Argr, Stark, and I... I was always the Argr. I was always the one on my hands and knees, servicing those brutes for the fleeting pleasure of orgasm. That's how I lured the ones who didn't seek me out for political reasons into my furs. It would have been far less shameful if I'd begged them to let me touch them, or paid them to do so.”

“I take it this... Argr thing... means you were the one who bottomed?” Tony asked when he found the strength to speak and the small nod he received as confirmation brought a lump the size of China to his already constricted throat. The way he was feeling right now he could have climbed his way to Asgard's golden gates fueled by nothing but the blind fury that was rising through his body like a goddamned tsunami and set all those bastards on fire, but that wouldn't help Loki in the slightest. That wouldn't help him feel any less ashamed or chip away his conviction that he was physically unappealing. “So you lied to me, hot stuff. Your cock is still a virgin, after all.”

Loki burst out in mirthless laughter and finally looked back at him with eyes that had become far too tear-bright and wounded for Tony's comfort.  
“You have a one-track mind, my dear Anthony. I don't know yet if that's a true fault or a virtue.”

“Well... I know that's no way to answer a simple enough question, Loki, so let me ask it again: have you or have you not ever plunged your prick into an asshole?”

“I have not.” Loki whispered and the silence that followed was so thick they could have cut it in half with a lettuce leaf. “Nobody would have let someone with my... shortcomings... touch them in that manner.”

“You don't have any shortcomings, peaches.”  
  
“Please, don't lie to me.”

“I'M NOT LYING TO YOU, DAMMIT!” Tony cringed as soon as he heard himself screech like a deranged maniac, but Loki, that contrary bastard, smiled sunnily at him and relaxed enough to finally slump on the couch like a rag doll. He sighed loudly and closed those green eyes of his for a second or two, shoulders losing their painful rigidity even as his face went from utterly pale flawlessness to the most adorable embarrassed blush Tony had ever seen.

“You are a marvelous healing balm for my battered ego, Anthony, and I thank you for your passionate defense of my supposed charms, but it's no use. Do not forget that I have lived now for centuries surrounded by a race who worships beauty in all it's forms. Why, my mother herself is the most breathtaking creature under Yggdrasil's shade.”

“Pfft! No offense, Reindeer, but your mother's an old bird and all her admirers have a foot in their graves already. We are talking next generation sex god here, and let me tell you right now that if you so much as dare to drop your brother's name anywhere into this conversation I'm gonna club you with your own horned helmet.”

“But...”

“No buts. No begging. No paying any bloody bastard to let you do to them what they're dying to do to you, babe. Get it into your thick head that these are barbarians of the first order, they wouldn't have been able to woo a sexy, sophisticated guy like you even if you'd written them a guide. But they wanted you alright, trust me on this. They wanted you with every breath they took. They wanted you so much they were willing to sell you all that stinking BS about you being too slender to fuck them, just to have a go at your sweet ass.”

“That can't be...”

“Of course it can. They wanted you then and they want you right now. My guess is they'll never stop wanting you because they've got a thousand versions of Thor up there, but there's only one of you, Lokes. That's it. That's the real crux of it, Reindeer. There is only one of you and it was easy enough for them to use your uniqueness to convince you of your physical failings. But the truth is very different, buttercup. The truth is that you're so fucking hot they'd been lusting after you since you left childhood behind. They may be brutes, but they are not blind. And if what you said is true and they have a thing for beauty, then I'm telling you that none of those motherfuckers would have been able to push the memory of you out of their heads even if they tried hammering it out with Thor's own hammer.”

Loki smiled beatifically then and gazed up into his face with open gratitude.  
“I like the picture you paint. It would serve them right to be haunted by memories of me even as they lay in the furs of those they claimed to be worthier.”

“I'm glad they were all idiots, though. Their failure to gain your affection left you free to shower all your loveliness over me instead, sweet pea.”

Loki giggled under his breath and caught his hand delicately, holding onto it for a brief moment before squeezing it once, almost as if to check he was real.  
“And I am glad to be in possession of the kind of loveliness you wish to be showered with, Anthony, for I'm growing fond of the idea of allowing my meager blessings to rain solely upon you, my wondrous mortal.”

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**** ****Chapter** ** ****9** ** ****.****

 

Tony had spent a lot of energy trying to get Stark Industries' board of directors to realize that he didn't give a fuck about their 'issues' with his decision making skills. He'd done the corporate slave thing for a long time and it hadn't worked well for anyone. That's why he'd ended up swallowing his own ego, accepting his limitations and paying Pepper's scandalous salary so that _she_ could deal with the board's annoying bullshit, which posed the question of why, exactly, had she spent the last fifty bloody minutes screaming at him over the latest twist in the goddamned board's panties.

“So what if I decided to change the iconic coloring of the latest version of the Iron Man suit? It's not as if any of those assholes has to wear it, Pep!” He snarled for the fifteenth time in the last half hour, ready to be as stubborn about this as he'd been about abandoning weapon manufacturing.

“You did it without letting the PR department know. You went ahead and unveiled it to the public before the shareholders had a chance to veto the idea and now you're going to cost us millions in merchandise re-calls alone. Everything is the wrong color, Tony. Everything! You can't do something this big without thinking it through because it affects all aspects of the business. Iron Man's image is so tangled with that of Stark Industries' that everything you do to that suit has immediate repercussions for the corporation.”

“I'm not changing it back, Pep. If the board has a problem with it then go ahead and fix it. I don't care how much work it takes or how much money you end up throwing in their pockets. I _want_ this. The new blue rose design is going to stay right where it is. It looks dammed good around the arc reactor's glow and I'm not shifting it for anyone or anything.”

“But _why_? Why on Earth would you do something so inexplicable? I thought you loved the boldness of the original design!”

“This is equally bold. And it means something to me. You've got no idea how wonderful it feels to see the man you love wearing your colors. Loki wore a scarf to our last date, Pep. A simple red and gold scarf that nobody got to see except myself and still... watching that one piece of cloth wrapped around his neck, and knowing that he'd worn it just for me, touched something so deep inside me that the memory still moves me.”

Pepper's irritation dissolved as if by magic upon hearing his rough-toned confession. She stopped pacing around him like some sort of caged lioness and plopped herself on the couch next to him, crossing one leg over the other with that natural elegance he'd always admired before sighing with growing resignation.  
“Has he seen the footage? I hope his reaction was worth it, Tony, because this is going to haunt the company for a very long time. The loss of revenue we are predicting could tip small countries into bankruptcy.”

“He was on a short trip to Asgard when I called the press conference, so he didn't hear anything about it that day. I think his mum really misses him. She keeps trying to convince his father to call him up more often.”

Pepper looked at him askance before rubbing the bridge of her nose with obvious frustration.  
“I don't see how he could have missed the coverage. It's been all over the news, Tony!”

“Loki isn't a great fan of TV and there hasn't been an Avengers call since I finished the Mark X.”

“So he doesn't know about this... Why a rose, though? I get that it's a very romantic symbol, but I'd have expected you to feature his battle colors instead. A blue rose doesn't make any sense when he's so partial to green.”

“He'll know what it means and that's all that matters to me. I didn't explain what it stands for to the press and I'm not going to explain it to the board of directors, either. This is personal, Pep. This is something far too precious to be shared. I may want him to understand that I cherish him enough to go ahead and expose my devotion to the world, but he's too private a man to forgive complete disclosure. I need him to trust me when it comes to things like this, because I'm too public a figure to get away with stuffing my private life inside a closet and try living it in shadow.”

“How is everything going between the two of you? I haven't seen you together at all.”

“Things are going very slowly. Loki doesn't like to be rushed. He's... afraid, I think. And he tries to hide it most of the time. I'm positive he doesn't realize how easily I can read through his bullshit and I don't want to spook him by pointing that out, so I back off a bit every time he clams up and its like we are muddling our way through one of those dances where you take three steps back for every one you take forwards.”

Pepper stared at him for a long moment, genuine distress clear in her lovely eyes:  
“That sounds... complicated.”

Tony smiled at her choice of words, knowing he deserved the slight dig but also fully aware that she was playing devil's advocate, attempting to push all his buttons to make sure he understood what he was getting into.  
“He is worth it, Pepper. You know me, babe. I wouldn't have messed with the Iron Man suit for anyone else.”

“You need to show him the new design, Tony. Don't let him be the last to know. Don't let him find out what you've done through someone else. Don't force him to learn about it out there, in the open, where anyone with a video camera could record his reaction by accident. He doesn't deserve to be hit with something this big in the middle of an Avengers' battle.”

Tony swallowed so hard he was certain Pepper had heard the shamefully pathetic little gulp he'd produced. His heart pounded with panic at the idea of exposing the Iron Man's rose design to the creature who inspired it. He knew his behavior was ridiculous, since he hadn't suffered from so much as a self-conscious twitch when he'd unveiled the bloody thing to the entire world but, no matter how many times he'd either lectured himself sternly in front of his own mirror or commanded J.A.R.V.I.S to do it for him, the truth was that he hadn't managed to talk some sense into his own thick skull.

He'd been putting the conversation off for three days now, going from determined resolution to abject terror so fast he was giving himself whiplash and it hadn't helped at all that Loki had returned from Asgard more subdued than ever, retreating so far inside that thick shell of his that Tony hadn't managed to get the bloody ass to come out again, no matter how many times he'd promised him sushi rolls and lopsided broccoli florets.

Tony knew he had to act. He also knew that he was running out of time but that awareness wasn't working to his benefit. It was giving him cold feet, instead of adding fire to his resolve to track down his gorgeous Reindeer and give him a private preview of his fabulous new suit. He kept cowering in his own lab, talking to himself when no one was looking and praying as hard as he could that no baddies were bored enough to launch a surprise attack before he cleaned out his act.

Fury had, literally, broken his own throat screaming at him over his decision to alter the suit's distinctive coloring and, although, he'd demanded to know what the changes meant, Tony had shrugged off his questions and told him he'd just felt like adding some classy art to his armor.

The team suspected his actions were related to Loki in some way, but they didn't understand how exactly. There was little green in the design and Thor had repeatedly told them how much his brother despised the color blue, so they were understandably worried about how badly Loki was going to react to the blatantly cerulean flower Tony had so carefully painted around the arc reactor.

“What if he doesn't like it? What if he tells me to wipe it off?” He questioned Pepper at long last in a small and frightened voice. She looked at him with soft-eyed understanding and shifted on the couch in order to get closer to him.

“Then you tell him that you can't. The arc reactor is your heart, Tony. He's got to know that the only place for him is right around it.”

Tony laughed shakily at that, more grateful for her encouraging words than she probably realized.  
“He does. I've told him I love him already. Shocking isn't it? Took me ages to say it to you.”

Pepper's smile was a rueful masterpiece.  
“You never loved me like that. I didn't notice it at the time but, looking back, there was little romantic love between us. You needed me at a time when you wanted... sanity. And you latched onto me with all your strength. I should had known you're too passionate a man to settle for need alone.”

“I don't deserve you, Pep. But I'm grateful that you're here, even though you mercilessly corralled me in my own living room just to scream my ear off.”

She laughed, swatting him sternly on the arm, before squeezing it softly in a gesture of reassurance.  
“You'll be fine. I don't know much about Loki, but I think you both are battling similar demons. He's an unwanted child, too. A genius in his own right, a scholar who finds it hard to connect properly with others. Someone who went off the rails and did terrible things because he was hurting deep inside. If there's anyone out there who can understand all of that then that person is you, Tony. Don't second-guess yourself so much and just... follow your instincts. If your gut told you it was time to put your feelings into that new design, then he probably needs to have them spelled out unequivocally. Trust yourself a bit more, please. You've never, so far, gone wrong when you've followed your heart.”

 

**TBC**

 


	10. Chapter 10

****Chapter** ** ****10** ** ****.** **

 

Despite Pepper's well-meaning insistence to the contrary, Tony didn't think he'd ever followed his heart in anything at all before he'd fallen head over heels for the most oblivious, illogically prickly and irritatingly retiring sexy god he'd ever met.

He'd followed his brains, his pride, his dick, his almost daredevil sense of adventure and his not-always-quite-right moral compass to wherever they all lead him at different points in his life, and the miracle that he'd ended up being the richest, smartest and most attractive Avenger of the lot had more to do with the fact that he'd been lucky enough to stumble into the lives of people who'd been worth their weight in gold than with his presumed possession of a goody-goody heart. He'd always been too pragmatic and too selfish to be anything other than bad with a large tendency to worse in the moral-fiber department, and that meant that following Pepper's rather simple romantic advice was a lot harder than it looked.

He dithered for another twenty four hours in which he'd locked himself in his lab and stared obsessively at the new suit, trying to see it through Loki's wary eyes without success, and ended up so messed up in the head about how to show it and what to say when he finally did it, that he'd thrown his favorite screwdriver at the bloody thing in a fit of sleep-deprived frustration at three thirty in the morning before hightailing it out of the room in order to avoid throwing something more damaging at it.

The lift took him efficiently upwards, depositing him in the darkened foyer of the Avengers' common floor and he walked towards the fully stoked bar with the accuracy of a man who'd trod the same path equally blindly a million times before. He turned his back instinctively on his least favorite window and walked right through his now second favorite floor spot in the entire tower, only topped by the small square patch where Loki had sock-slid for the very first time

“I've got it bad. I've got it real bad, man. I can't work. I can't sleep. I can't even get smashed without having that bloody sexy reindeer haunt my thoughts even though he's been giving me the widest berth, ever, since he came back from home.” He grumbled under his breath, serving himself a generous amount of scotch and draining the tumbler in a single go before lowering it once again with the intention of serving himself another.

“If you intend to keep drinking while spouting further mushy nonsense about me in increasingly drunken monologue, I'd rather you abandon that particular course of action right now, if it's all the same to you, Anthony.”

His crush's gorgeous voice, coming so abruptly from somewhere near the cluster of couches closest to the unlit fireplace shocked him so much that he'd ended up spilling his precious alcohol all over the surface of the bar when he jumped -manfully, mind you- and _failed_ to squeal like a little girl frightened of the dark, no matter what sort of irrefutable 'proof' to the contrary J.A.R.V.I.S was probably busy encrypting right now.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ! You've got to give us, mortals, some sort of warning that you're haunting a room before you pull an all-out ghostly speech around us in the middle of the night, bluebell. We have fragile constitutions, you know?” He muttered, grabbing the nearest rag to mop the spilled alcohol distractedly while peering intently into the dark, trying in vain to get his Loki-deprived eyes their first post-Asgard trip glimpse of the most elusive gorgeousness of them all.  
”Lights, J.A.R.V.I.S, lights. I'm pretty sure you can do whatever nefarious thing you're currently doing and increase visibility around here at the same time.”

“Sorry, Sir. I assumed you'd prefer to have your usual excuse of 'Gosh! It's really, really, dark in here' handy when you pulled your thirty sixth most successful seduction move, ever, on poor, unsuspecting Mr. Odinson and fake-fell into his lap.”

Now Tony's shock was so immense that the wet rag he was holding dropped from his startled fingers all the way to the floor with a loud plop. His eyes widened impossibly and he jerked his head upwards and to the left, towards where he knew the closest camera in the room was located, arching a peeved eyebrow at his uncharacteristically treacherous A.I in his most emphatic 'WTF?' expression.

“Giving away that sort of signature Stark move could be considered treason in many countries, Jeeves.” He grumbled distractedly even as he tried to keep count of the subtle flashes of color that kept coming from the side of the camera he has so intently staring at. Three rapid reds quickly followed by two long greens was code for 'acted like a dick because Pepper is in distress and I was trying to make her laugh, Sir.' Only Pepper wasn't here and there was no reason at all for J.A.R.V.I.S to implement protocol 567, unless...

Shit. Shit. Shit. He'd told his personal butler-cum-companion-cum-best-friend/confidante to follow the parameters he'd set out for Pepper while they were still together for everything regarding Loki until he had enough data about sexy-long-leg's likes, dislikes and emotional triggers to input a new protocol into his system. That meant that Loki was distressed and J.A.R.V.I.S had been trying to make him laugh with that subversive little stunt which, judging by the glaring lack of godly mirth in the air, had failed spectacularly to achieve the intended goal.

“Lights, Jeeves, _lights_. At 100%. Right now!” He managed to bark through the heavy knot that was trying to take over his throat. His A.I brought the room to full illumination so abruptly that his poor eyes began to ache almost immediately, but a lifetime of dealing with both self-inflicted hangovers and the merciless tough-love approach to helping him trough them that J.A.R.V.I.S so often embraced, meant he was able to focus on his surroundings a lot faster than Loki.

Tony was halfway across the room by the time Frosty, the horned blueberry, managed to reduce the instinctive blinking of his red-rimmed green eyes to one third. And he'd already sat and was staring at the hastily smudged tear-tracks that his crush must have been in the process of drying when the lights came up with something so close to panic that he wished he'd thought of cleaning up his spilled scotch with his own tongue instead of mopping it off with that rag.  
“I hope the idea of me falling accidentally into your lap isn't what drove you to tears, peaches, because that'll throw all kinds of nasty spanners into the plans I've made for the next 50 years or so.”

Loki flinched slightly backwards, plastered himself against the cushions on the other side of the couch and lowered his gaze to stare self-consciously at his bare feet before whispering stiltedly:  
“Let's not talk about that. Please, Anthony.”

Something really cold and awfully close to heartbreak settled in the pit of his stomach upon hearing that particularly unwelcome request.  
“Does that mean we're putting the conversation off for just now, or do you expect me to keep it under lock and key for good?”

Loki's miserable-looking eyes lifted then, settling over him with a kind of hopeless vulnerability that made every hair on the back of Tony's neck stand on end.  
“I can no longer shield you from Heimdall. I can no longer assure us true privacy. I've been placed on a very short leash indeed when it comes to you.”

The engineer's confusion increased, making it impossible for him to feel relieved just yet about the fact that Loki hadn't told him that whatever had been between them was already as dead as the Dodo as far as he was concerned.  
“Heimdall is the pervy peeping Tom that operates your bridge thing, isn't he?”

Loki's attempt at laughter was a fragile, little sound that resembled a strangled gasp.  
“Heimdall is Asgard's gatekeeper. The king's ultimate spy. He has eyes and ears into the personal business of every inhabitant of the nine realms except me.”

“There you go, then. You can fool his sight with your mojo, but I can't. Doesn't that mean I've always been victim of his spying tendencies? The guy has been watching me all my life already, yeah? I don't see how that's a reason for you to cry buckets in the dark at bloody three thirty in the morning. It's not like I'm new to crazy paparazzi, mad stalkers and the occasional uber-creepy bodily-fluids collector.”

“I have always had the ability to shield those I interact with from Heimdall's sight on a temporary basis, Anthony. He would have been able to watch your interactions with everybody else, but our encounters have been a complete blank to him since I finally realized the nature of your feelings towards me. Heimdall hasn't been privy to any of our dates so far and, since the king's locator runes can only pinpoint my position at any given time, all they've known about them in Asgard is that I was either here, in your tower, or out at the sushi restaurant.”

“So your father was trying to get the scoop on us by asking his all-seeing buddy to keep an eye on me. Only things didn't work out the way he wanted because you were shielding me, too. Is that it?” Tony questioned in his most logical tone even though his gut had started churning, already bent on informing him that it had a very bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling indeed.

“He took an interest in the Avengers after Thor's first involvement with them. The allfather likes to know everybody's weaknesses, friends and enemies alike. He wasn't particularly thrilled with what he learned about you, Anthony. He believes you're self-destructive. Impulsive. Uncontrollable. Immoral... He considers you the worst kind of influence for a 'rebellious and troublesome child who is sufficiently weak-minded to have tried to conquer a blooming realm just because he mixed with the wrong crowd.'”

Tony laughed despite himself, startled by the ridiculous picture his mind had just conjured of a one-eyed Howard look-alike giving a sullen Loki the 'you're-being-a-bad-teenager' speech.  
“Is that why he called you up so suddenly? To read you the riot act? I must say that was surprisingly sneaky for such a prissy-pants guy. I thought that Hogun-what's-his-name said your mum missed you something fierce and had convinced the old fart to let you visit.”

Loki turned deadly pale and rushed forwards in a jerky motion that halted abruptly once he'd brought himself close enough to press trembling fingertips against Tony's shocked lips while whispering rather frantically:  
“Mind your words, Anthony. I. Can. No. Longer. Shield. You. Heimdall is watching you now.”

Tony's head pounded. It whirled with both frustrated confusion and awakening desire in response to the sudden contact that his usually aloof beloved was bestowing upon him. Not that the reindeer wasn't skittish enough at the moment to put the most highly-strung thoroughbred to shame, but then he'd hardly ever come this close to him of his own free will in the past, let alone bothered to touch him on the mouth while leaning masterfully over him, so... yeah. This Heimdall business was definitely suck-balls bad, but it was also good. Good in the most exciting, toe-curlingly-arousing way, ever.  
“OK. The perv's watching me. How is he doing it, though? How come you can't magic me blank anymore?”

Loki's already pale face lost whatever meager color it still possessed and he jerked backwards once again until he ended up siting on his haunches in the middle of the couch. Tony's body followed him instinctively, eyeing him with growing anxiety as he took note of the unbearable dullness that had taken over those gorgeous green eyes before his god lifted a shaking right arm, forcing him to focus on the thin golden band that encircled his wrist.  
“The king shackled that spell when I refused to swear never to use it in your company of my own free will. I can no longer perform it, Anthony.”

Tony went cold from head to toes, looking at the deceptively innocuous, pretty little bracelet as if it were a poisonous snake rearing its head for attack. He remembered the look of horror that had crawled all over Loki's bruised features when his brother had clamped the magic-dampening manacles he'd brought down from Asgard after the New York debacle. He knew the reindeer had hated them more than being bashed by The Hulk or the muzzle that had robbed him off his voice because Loki, proud sorcerer that he was, couldn't bear to have his magical abilities hindered in any way. Messing up with his mojo was the ultimate slap in the face as far as his reindeer was concerned and Tony couldn't believe the one-eyed cyclops who'd spent two thousand years raising him hadn't realized that already.  
“Why would your dad target your magic again? You haven't done anything. What the hell is wrong with the bastard? I thought he was all about second chances, trying his best to do right by you and all that cool, fatherly stuff.”

Loki laughed bitterly.  
“The king of Asgard is NOT my father. I've told you this many times already.”

“And I thought you were being your usual stubborn self about that adoption thing, OK? I assumed you were going for a daddy-themed version of the tantrum you both have every time you tell Thor that he's not your brother.”

Loki glared at him haughtily:  
“My claim in that respect is not unfounded. It's irrefutable fact that I'm not of Thor's blood and we both know it.”

“Sometimes brotherhood isn't a matter of blood but of choice, sweet-pea. Sometimes family just finds us and it doesn't matter at all whether we're from Earth or Asgard or fucking Frostyland.”

Loki smiled faintly at his blatant bastardization of his true realm's name and Tony's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as he came to the shocking realization that he wasn't as bad at this comforting-your-other-half thing as he thought he'd be. He could do this. He was obviously doing it already. He'd keep spouting more ridiculously outrageous nonsense until his sexy reindeer showed signs of feeling better and the awful, bruised look that currently haunted his eyes had abandoned them completely. He'd do it because Loki needed him to do it, and if that brought them even closer than they had been before the heavenly old fart decided to try his hand at breaking them apart, then all the power to them. Tony was swiftly developing a visceral dislike for eternally stupid cyclops and anything he could do to stomp on their ancient bunions until they howled with rage he'd gladly do thrice over, with bells on.

His hand settled on Loki's slender wrist, tracing the thin band of gold with horrified fascination and hating the slight heat it gave off as it rested against Loki's naturally cold skin. This blasted thing must be burning his stoic and gorgeous prince constantly, and the thought that Loki had been carrying it around for almost a week without him being any the wiser was digging a bottomless hole of sheer resentment in his wildly pounding heart.  
“How come Thor hasn't said anything about this? We both know he can't keep this kind of secret to save his life.”

“The allfather summoned me for a private audience while we were there. Thor was busy sparring with his friends at the time.”

Tony's eyes began to prickle with something that could have been either sinking sorrow or overflowing frustration.  
“And you didn't tell him what happened? Didn't it occur to you that he could have intervened on your behalf? Or that I'd have loved to be given the chance to figure out how to snap this bloody shit off your wrist?”

“There is nothing you can do. Fighting mighty gods and magic is above your considerable skills, Anthony.” Loki pulled his arm away sharply, no longer willing to accept the small comfort of Tony's curious fingertips, and the inventor forced himself to take a deep breath and count to 500 before he even moved a muscle, lest he tried to grab the stubborn bastard in order to shake some sense into him while the guy was in the process of trying to preserve his precious dignity by closing himself off behind an emotional barricade that could put the Wall of China to shame.

“Let's ignore for now the fact that I once managed to defeat mighty magical _you_ and your band of alien lizard minions, then. Thor is used to fighting gods and sorcerers, though. Why your mother, herself, has kicked that kind of ass for fun plenty of times as well. Why didn't you go to either of them? I'm sure they'd have helped you, Loki.”

“Thor has never chosen my side against his father's and mother wouldn't have chosen it, either. I am alone in this, just as I've always been.”

Tony wanted to hug him fiercely enough to break his bones then, but he knew such action wouldn't be seen as the comfort he wanted it to be. No. Loki would think it patronizing, a contact born of pity instead of love. And he couldn't afford that. Not right now when it was obvious that his sorcerer was a single green puff away from magicking himself into total retreat once again.  
“It just doesn't make any sense for the old bastard to mess with that particular spell. It's not as if he's forcing you into the perv's view too. I mean he's already on shaky enough ground with you and he knows it. Why would he risk upsetting you this much for the dubious pleasure of hearing me whisper mushy sweet nothings in your ear?”

Loki eyed him warily, wriggling on the couch until he'd managed to sit himself back on his ass and bring his knees up between them, a physical barrier to add to the invisible one that already separated them. Then he placed his sharply defined cheek atop his bony knees and stared blindly into space, making Tony's hand just itch to breach the distance between them and card his fingers through that long and silky dark hair, loop a slightly curling lock around a pale ear, let him know that he could try to build as many walls as he wanted between them and they still wouldn't be enough to keep him away for good.  
“Talk to me, bluebell. The bastard already knows he's pissed you off. What harm can putting your thoughts into words do at this point?”

Loki sighed, clearly exasperated, but his lips opened willingly enough, offering a quiet explanation.  
“He knows I hate it when he looks at me. He knows his scrutiny makes me uncomfortable enough to... retreat. He's counting on my natural inclination to shy away from giving him the show my current inability to shield you could provide him with to put a stop to what he considers a 'less than desirable' association.”

Tony laughed, chuffed despite himself by the fact that a mighty god was actually having the daddy fits to end all daddy fits over his 'association' with his youngest child. That pushed his bad-boy vibe to a whole new bad-ass level in the best possible way. He suddenly felt sexy, cocky and impossibly powerful. He felt one-thousand per cent James Dean material and that'd have been awesomely cool if it wasn't for the fact that Loki had been forced to pay such steep price for the compliment.  
“That just means poor dear old fart's remaining eye isn't working as well as it should, otherwise he'd have already noticed that I haven't been 'less than desirable' since I left diapers behind. I'm Tony Fucking Stark, man. I'm the definition of Desirable with a capital D and every letter emblazoned in diamond encrusted gold at least five inches thick.”

Loki's somber gaze lightened with reluctant amusement and he shook his head from left to right, obviously stumped.  
“Your bold daring never fails to astound me, Anthony. You disrespect the allfather himself while fully aware that he's probably listening in on this very conversation, and you do it without a single flinch of fear for the consequences. Your courage is probably only matched by whatever madness prompts you to behave so recklessly.”

Tony swallowed past the huge lump trying to move into his throat as he finally decided to send caution to the wind and recaptured Loki's hand, curling his work-roughened digits around the sorcerer's slightly trembling ones and holding onto them for dear life as he whispered quietly, but with feeling:  
“I will place myself on the opposite side of whoever doesn't have your back, reindeer. And if that means facing off against your dad then I'll go toe to toe against him and find a way to win.”

“He's not my...”

“Yeah, he is. He's doing this because he cares, even though it's a pretty shitty thing to do and he probably just added another thousand years or so to the proverbial doghouse you already had him stuffed in, but then I'm pretty sure I'd forbid my own daughter from 'cavorting' out of sight with a ruffian like me, so yeah, I get why he's gone this far even though I think it's pretty dumb of him.”

“Don't defend him. He's trying to ruin this.”

“He can't ruin it if you don't let him. I've got you, buttercup. I swear I've got you. This isn't only about that insane shyness of yours, is it? This is about your conviction that no one would ever pick you over him. This is about you thinking you know what the answer to your request for help will be, and being so terrified to be proven right that you can't even bear to ask.”

“I've asked many times, Anthony. I've asked again and again, for centuries. I kept asking until I had no other option but to accept that the answer wouldn't change.”

“You've never asked me, though. And you should have, because I. Choose. You, Loki. I will always choose you.”

Loki's pale face turned bright pink and he blinked like a startled little kitten, staring right at him with incredulous, wide eyes.  
“That's... not possible.”

“It is, and I can prove it right now. All you've got to do is follow me down to the lab and feast your eyes on the unequivocal proof I've got waiting for you there. This is great timing, bluebell. Great timing indeed. I did this before this ugly shit-storm hit my shore and now you'll always know I mean it for real.”

Loki looked at him askance, elegant eyebrows coming together in that adorable expression of complete and utter confusion that never failed to melt Tony's foolish heart.  
“I'm not sure I understand.” He whispered finally and that was all he needed to say before Tony leaped to his feet and pulled insistently on his hand.

“That's alright. You'll understand soon enough. Come down to the lab with me, babe. I've got something epic to show you. Something way better than sushi and mangled bunny sticks, I swear. This is even better than sock sliding, and I thought that one was awesome, so... yeah.”

Loki followed him easily enough. Newborn curiosity raising it's wary head in the depths of his green eyes as he stepped off the couch and walked across the floor and into the lift with uncharacteristic docility, watching him press the button that would lead them down to the lab before he bothered to point out:  
“That's the least straightforward clarification I've ever heard, and I've dealt with enough of Vanaheim's senior ambassadors to have heard plenty of those.”

Tony tried his best to match his sorcerer's playful tone, aiming to keep this fragile lighthearted moment for as long as he possibly could.  
“What can I say? My mind is a dark and twisted place, pumpkin. Most people can't get anything out of me unless I want to give it away, least of all the truth. I'm all about smoke and mirrors, sweet-pea. Smoke and mirrors.”

“What have you done, then? What smoke and mirror trickery have you devised in my absence?

“There's no trickery here, Loki. Just the truest truth I've got, spelled out in plain sight for everyone to see, even though I haven't explained what it means to anyone at all because this is nobody's business but ours. This is my shout from the rooftops, audible to all but spoken in a language only you will fully understand because only you have to, reindeer.”

“Such convoluted riddle greatly intrigues me, Anthony. I hope the object in question proves worthy of the praise you so generously heap upon it.” Loki whispered, eyeing the obscured laboratory door with barely concealed trepidation.

“You have nothing to fear, bluebell.” Tony vowed as he punched in the code and waited for the doors to slide apart before dragging Loki in with as much determination as his suddenly pounding heart allowed him to fake.

“It's there, on the last stand to your right: The Iron Man Suit, Mark X.”

Loki snorted upon hearing his quiet introduction, shaking his dark head from left to right in a show of almost Pepper-like disparaging amusement.  
“Only you would boast so much about an object of your own making. How can you claim your suit holds a truth only I'll be able to unveil when there's nothing about it that can possibly...? Oh!” Loki's words halted as soon as his eyes settled on the suit. His gaze widened and his milky-white complexion acquired the most lovely shade of red Tony had ever seen as he stood rooted to the spot and stared at the new design etched around the arc reactor with crystal clear disbelief.

“That's my rose, isn't it? You've painted the rose you gave me around your suit's energy source.” He whispered shakily after a veritable eternity of shocked silence spent studying the suit in question through overwhelmed, tear-bright eyes.

Tony's lips released the breath they'd been holding and his hand sought Loki's own once again, grasping the god's trembling digits in a small gesture of reassurance.  
“Yes. I've painted _my_ _rose_ -and that's definitely you, Loki- around the only heart I've ever had. I've branded your image upon my greatest creation, upon the one thing that defines me. Upon the only achievement of mine that means something pure and good and... self-less... to me. And I'm seriously freaking out right now, babe. Because I've done this and, although I honestly think you need someone to do this sort of thing for you, I'm not completely certain you want that someone to be _me_ , so... oops!  Please don't let it overwhelm you. I don't want to spook you or anything. I just... It really meant a lot to me when you wore that scarf with my colors and it made me realize that I've only offered you fun and sushi so far. I want so much more than that, peaches. I want everything. And I know that makes me sound like a fucking greedy bastard, but then I've always been a greedy bastard and...”

“You realize Heimdall is listening in right now, don't you, Anthony? You realize the allfather's spy has now seen this blue symbol and been told exactly what it means? You realize the king of Asgard is now privy to your most intimate feelings and they go against his every design for whatever future he has in store for me?”

“Don't think about them, cupcake. This isn't their moment, but _ours_. That fucking asshole can't choose your future for you, no matter how hard he tries, because that's all yours, Loki. _Yours_.”

Loki's gaze softened at once, gorgeous green eyes brightening as they settled over him with a focused intensity that took Tony's breath away. Long, pale fingertips framed his stubbed jaw, holding his reddening face captive as his god studied his features further, drinking in his every blink and nervous gulp as he remained trapped there, willing captive of those hands and those eyes and the beautiful shy smile that was blooming ever so slowly across his trickster's pale lips.  
“You should have been a poet, Anthony. You tell me the most beautiful things, even though you often wrap them in uncouth language and defiant bravado.”

“Loki...”

“You have chosen me. You have branded an image of me upon your suit. You have named yourself mine of your own free will and now... Do you still want me like this? Would have a sorcerer whose magic has been crippled?” He questioned raggedly, lifting his shaking right arm to expose that awful bracelet once again and Tony growled with renewed rage when his eyes settled over it, hating the sight of it against his reindeer's skin all over again. Hating the terrible vulnerability its very presence had carved in Loki's heart.

“You are not crippled and I'm gonna get it off you, gorgeous. I swear it.”

“Do not promise me sweet boons you can't possibly deliver. All I want from you is the truth. Your honest, unadorned truth.”

“My truth is right here, Loki, painted on this suit for all to see.”

“Then your truth pleases me, Anthony. I hope you find mine equally pleasing.” Loki whispered and Tony didn't have enough time to ask him what that meant before the fingertips that held his face tilted it just so and his crush' gorgeous mouth fell upon his, claiming his entire being for himself in the most heart-pounding, toe-curling, honest to goodness hottest kiss he'd ever received. Tony groaned under the onslaught of Loki's devouring lips and his sexy god took the hint and entered his mouth with all the knee-weakening self-assurance of the conquering viking he'd been raised to be.

Tony went limp with sheer shock before coming back to life with a vengeance. His hands caught Loki’s slender hips and gripped them tightly enough to make sure this wasn't some sort of wild dream, and his breath hitched with unashamed arousal when his prince moaned against his lips and wriggled slightly in his hands, rubbing those maddeningly sexy hipbones against his calloused palms as he took a step closer, plastering their bodies together all the way from lips to knees.  
  
Tony's mouth tingled as Loki's lips plundered it mercilessly and he allowed himself to go soft and pliant, surrendering to the asgardian's ministrations with a willingness to give he'd been reluctant to gift anyone else. Loki licked and nibbled his way inside his mouth and Tony let him tangle their tongues together in a teeth-clanging mess of increasingly heady desire, unable to do anything but bask in the incredible heat of it all, in the swoon-worthy passionate intensity that seemed to have turned his usually skittish beloved from shy maiden to seductive vixen in the space between one blink and the next.  
  
Loki kissed him as if they both were dying. As if there would be no tomorrow. As if he honestly believed he had to spend all his lust in this one caress, because he'd never be granted another. Tony wanted to reassure him, tell him to be gentle, to take his time and relax because they'd have an entire lifetime full of kisses just like this one, but he couldn't speak at all with a mouth full of Loki. Then the reindeer arched him slightly backwards and plastered their bodies so very close to one another's that Tony could feel every single ridge of the asgardian's ribs dig slightly into his abs. He became hyper-aware of how incredibly close their bodies were, separated by no more than two flimsy sets of clothes that would be oh-so-easy to discard, and he could do nothing but moan and growl and _want_ so much that he burned from the inside out, like a gas fueled stove.  
  
Lack of air eventually forced them apart and they stared at each other in complete silence for a tension-filled moment. Loki's green eyes looked fierce and terrified and so adorably self-conscious that Tony couldn't comprehend how the hell the passionate firebrand who'd just liquefied his brains and sucked them out through his lips could possibly be hiding inside such outwardly shy and reserved creature.

“Woa! That was, without a doubt, the most awesome first kiss, ever, cupcake, and I sincerely hope you're not planning on making it a one-time thing, because failure to repeat it until our lips fall off from overuse would be the most terrible tragedy.” He managed to whisper in the end and could have floated off the ground all on his own -no metal suit required for this feat, thanks- when the beautiful sound of Loki's twinkling laughter curled around his intoxicated senses, making the moment brighter, bigger and about a trillion times better than it had been until then.

“Then I shall strive to kiss you more often. For I'm now determined to choose you for as long as you choose me, and that... _That_ is my truth, Anthony.”'

**TBC...**

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

****Chapter 11**** ****.** **

 

Anyone who had ever dealt with Tony for long enough ended up learning that his quirky sense of humor and all around tendency to not really give a fuck about a very long list of things indeed often meant that he'd forgive quite a lot of sins and put up with plenty of bullshit without batting an eye. Believing that to be the case for everything, though, was the very first -and usually final- mistake that many, many, people kept making around him. Not that he particularly cared, because he'd never had any problem when it came to dropping whichever acquaintance had dared to step over his precious written-on-stone boundaries without so much as a by your leave, but the point was that they existed. And they were kind of... unmovable, because they made him who he was and he fucking _loved_  himself.

There were things, personal, specific things, that Tony knew he was quite particular about. These were things he didn't like at all and wouldn't let anyone get away with, no matter who they were or how much they thought he needed them in his life. He didn't take orders from anyone and that included both S.H.I.E.L.D and Stark Industries' board of directors. He had no problem letting them believe they could control him -as long as it suited him- but that didn't make him _their_ plaything. It only make _them_ look all the more stupid in his eyes because, come on, controlling Tony Stark... what the hell were they thinking?

He was also well and truly done with weapon manufacturing, stepping on little people to get just an inch ahead, and the bachelor lifestyle that had earned him his playboy reputation, if his recently developed tendency to stutter to a halt in the middle of one of his awesome-genius-dazzling-your-tiny-brain-with-indecipherable-science-here rants to get all dreamy-eyed over steamy thoughts of Loki's toe-curling kisses was anything to go by.

He disliked swimming pools, jacuzzis, river rafting, the ocean and any other thing that had even the slightest possibility of putting him in a position where he might, just might, end up with his head under water. He couldn't stand people who tried to hand him things, and he wouldn't let anyone, and that meant absolutely No. One. At. All, mess with _HIS_ STUFF. And currently there was nothing and nobody in the entire universe who fitted into the category of being _HIS_ STUFF better than Loki Odinson, Second prince of Asgard, and the best goddamned kisser in all the realms put together. That meant that the little bracelet his crush's douchebag of a father was using to mess up his mojo was offending Tony's 'Stark sensibilities' all the way down to his bones, and the fact that he hadn't managed to get rid of the blasted thing was sticking in his craw so savagely that he'd turned almost overnight from his default laid-back genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist persona into an increasingly enraged wild bear who exhibited every sign of having a rather large thorn stuck deeply into his paw.

Tony knew the rest of the team -and even Pepper- had started to give him a wide berth lately due to his snappy attitude and all around grouchy disposition whenever he wasn't too busy either having his tonsils all but sucked out of his body by Loki's talented mouth or attempting -and failing abysmally- to devise a way to pulverize that overly flashy shackle into a million tiny grains of satisfyingly small dust.

His trickster kept advising him to let it go already, reminding him that the bracelet had been created by a god. An ancient being who not only had thousands of years of experience over him, but also a rather extensive knowledge of the magical arts. Tony didn't like Loki's resignation to put up with his 'new sentence' one little bit. He liked the slight redness he could glimpse around his gorgeous prince's wrist whenever he was too slow to cast the healing charm he'd begun to use on a daily basis even less, and wasn't prepared -or even willing- to learn to 'live with it until the king grows tired of this game'.

He'd listened to Loki's latest lecture on the subject just a couple of days earlier and had ended up smiling at his alien-wizard with as much apologetic regret as he could possibly muster when he felt no regret whatsoever before telling him that no, he wouldn't let it go. He _couldn't_ let it go. The whole thing had become a matter of principle and his pride was on the line. He had to find a way to break him free of that bloody bracelet because, seriously, no one who had the balls to put a shackle on Tony-Fucking-Stark's boyfriend/godfriend/maddeningly-sexy-sock-sliding-partner right under his nose should be allowed to have a single hope of getting away with it. Not even the one-eyed king of Asgard. Specially _not_ the one-eyed king of Asgard.

Loki had stormed off in a huff, accusing him of being an arrogant, pigheaded midgardian who wouldn't know how to pick his battles even if Sun Tzu himself wrote him a bloody manual detailing how to do it, and locked himself in his bedroom. He'd given him the cold shoulder to put all cold shoulders to shame, until Tony had bribed him into forgiving him with a surprise trip to the opera that had ended up with both their faces splashed all over the papers, under some of the most hilarious headlines he'd read in a very long time.  
  
Despite the gleeful sense of satisfaction that had filed him with triumph as he'd read out loud each and every one of the innuendo-fueled headlines that the 'torrid, alleged, romance' they were having had inspired the city's paparazzi to write, the sweetness of their relationship's first airing to the public hadn't managed to soothe the seething rage that Tony had begun to experience as soon as he'd realized that Loki had started magicking the stupid bracelet invisible whenever he was around him. He understood why the god had done it, he really did, but that knowledge only managed to offend him even more.

It wasn't as if Tony could forget the bracelet's loathsome existence, just because he was no longer able to see it flashing its little evil beams of golden light every time the cuff of his reindeer's long-sleeved shirt rode up his arm enough for it to catch a stray ray of sunshine. He's been convinced for a while that the bloody thing shimmers like a string of perfectly cut diamonds, just to spite him, regardless of whether he can see it or not and he hates it. Hates it. HATES IT! He also hates his maddening inability to figure out how to bust that bloody lock without hacking Loki's hand clean off his wrist to do it. And the fact that he'd just left Dum-E cleaning the mess he'd made of his lab after his latest failed experiment was responsible for the bitter taste of defeat he was currently struggling to swallow.

“You can tell your douchebag of a king that I'm not giving up on this research, Tomy-boy.” He growled at the end of his tether, giving up on trying to control his increasingly frustrated temper as he stomped across his private balcony until he'd reached the spot where Thor usually appeared whenever he called for that magic bridge of his. “I don't care how hard Loki is trying to make me forget the dammed thing even exists, or how many times my experiments hit a roadblock. I'm gonna crack that shit open sooner or later. All I've got to do is keep on trying, and I'm goddamned brilliant at being a stubborn pain in the ass, so yeah... Tell that bastard that I'm planning to set his son free come hell or high water. What's dear old pirate-face going to do then, eh, Pervy? Is he gonna lock him in his room like a very bad boy and never let him out? That's rather medieval, isn't it? And we both know that Loki will never speak to him of his own free will ever again if he dares to go down that road, so... come on, buddy! Tell that cowardly old fart to sort this out like a man and grant me a fucking audience or something. I can't wait to call him an asshole to his face.”

He was tired, annoyed and so goddamned exhausted of hiding how easily he could read Loki's ever-growing despondency over his inability to cast that blasted cloaking spell while bloody Thor spent every other hour of the day shouting 'dear brother this and dear brother that' without so much as _noticing_ that his sibling was crumbling like a house of wet cards right under his oblivious, royal nose, that he could have happily ripped that blond idiot a new one if Loki hadn't specifically forbidden him from discussing the bracelet thing with anyone, least of all with Thor.

Tony hated family messes. He'd had enough of his own growing up and had sworn to himself never to get embroiled in anybody else's, no matter what the provocation. Loki wasn't asking him to get involved, though. The reindeer had taken great pains to drive home the message that he didn't want him sticking his oar in the pissing-contest he had going with his father and, perversely, Tony felt illogically annoyed by the fact that his irritatingly independent boyfriend kept on giving him the perfect excuse to abandon the mad ride into the absolute pit of misery that was the Asgardian royal family dynamics when the only thing he wanted was to stay on until the bitter end, so he could pick up each and every one of Loki's shattered pieces and glue them back together as soon as humanly possible.  
“You're gonna break him, you, bastards. You are gonna break him and I'm not letting him fight this one on his own. He's not on his own, goddammit! He's got me and I, Anthony Edward Stark, Have. His. Back. Do you hear me, Pervy? I have Loki's back now and that means I'm not gonna let any of you, assholes, bully him any more.”

“I would like to know the identity of this 'Pervy', friend Stark, for I also have my brother's back and will happily help you crush the insect who has tried to bully a rightful prince of Asgard.”

Tony was so startled upon hearing Thor's quiet voice snarl that ferocious statement with the kind of hair-raising anger the guy rarely bothered to embrace that he ended up whirling around so fast he almost tripped on his own two feet.  
“You've gotta give a half-drunk mortal some warning that you're eavesdropping, pointbreak. You can not sneak onto my private balcony and spy on a for-my-ears-only rant like some sort of overly muscled, alien, 007. I swear your brother and you are gonna give me a heart attack if you keep pulling these sort of stunts on me.”

Thor's bulging biceps rippled as he crossed those massive arms of his across his equally massive chest before looking right at him with unusually somber blue eyes.  
“You are not drunk, Man of Iron. Do not forget that I have been around you long enough to be able to tell the difference between alcohol intoxication and frothing fury whenever you care to exhibit either one.”

Tony swallowed uncomfortably, fighting down the bubble of hysteria that was making his gut churn unpleasantly. He didn't want to have a stupid heart to heart with Thor about this. He couldn't have a stupid heart to heart with Thor at this point, no matter how much he wanted to have one or how many times he'd rehearsed the stuff he'd been desperately eager to shout in his dumb face for a while now. He couldn't surrender himself to the temptation of having this fight tonight because he'd promised Loki he wouldn't spill the beans to big, blond and thunderous. And he knew his reindeer would never forgive him if he blurted out what was going on in the middle of the more generalized you-really-are-the-shittiest-big-brother-I've-ever-met shouting match he was dying to start with the dude.  
“We can't have whatever conversation you came here to have, Obelix. Trust me when I tell you that I, personally, would love to give it a go but I _can't._ At least not right now, solet's call it a day and go to bed before either of us says something Loki will make us regret ever putting into words. That plan cool enough for you, buddy?”

“I do not plan to regret what I have come here to say, friend Stark. My brother is unhappy. He's trying his best to hide it but I see it clearly enough.”

Tony's entire frame tensed at the implied accusation and his eyes flashed with anger, cocky jaw lifting in vicious challenge as he crossed his own arms across the glow of his arc reactor in a defiant stance that perfectly mirrored Thor's own:  
“And you think I'm responsible for that?”

“I'm positive that you aren't.” The thunderer spoke with enough conviction to deflate Tony's outraged sails with that single verbal blow. “I don't know how you've done it, but you've managed to convince Loki to let you in. He didn't even bat an eyelash when you showed up for the latest Avengers' battle wearing your strange new armor and that means he'd already seen it and, against all the odds, decided not to take offense for the misguided choice of color in your token. You should be proud. My brother hasn't worn any shade of blue since he learned of his heritage, no matter how much our mother would rejoice in seeing him do so. Blue is her signature color and Loki's decision to disown it has been a great blow to her.”

“Maybe he didn't want to kick up a fuss about it. Your brother's not exactly keen on having public tantrums, Thor. He's more the grin-and-bear-it sort.”

“He's also extremely proud and very quick to anger. He would have strangled you with your own entrails before letting you wear a warrior's token in his honor, if he hadn't cared for your affection. He even touched you in front of everyone just this morning. He put his hand squarely on your shoulder before leaning over it to reach for the salt.”

“That doesn't mean anything, pointbreak.”

“It does when you are Loki and you have magic on your side. He could have summoned the shaker right into his hand. That is his way, son of Howard. My brother doesn't like to touch people. He takes great pains to avoid bestowing that sort of contact upon those he doesn't care about on a regular basis. But he touched you. He did it because he's chosen you and that... _that_ is a great achievement indeed. Loki has never allowed himself to choose anyone before.”

“We shouldn't be talking about this. You have no right to tell me that sort of stuff when Loki, himself, hasn't.”

“I have every right to speak thus. My. Brother. Is. Unhappy. He shouldn't be, but he is, and I want to know why. Loki's refusal to acknowledge nearly two thousand years of brotherhood doesn't negate their existence, friend Stark. He may be trying to actively forget our fraternal connection, but I am not. We grew up together. I know his tells as well as I know my own. There is something the matter with him and, although he's refusing to confide in me, he has obviously told you what ails him. That is why you have been so out of sorts lately. I recognize your eagerness to avenge whatever dishonor has befallen him because I feel it too. We will destroy those who've harmed him together. All you have to do is tell me everything you know.”

Tony's wildly pounding heart fell all the way down to the floor as he stood there, equal parts ecstatic about finally having irrefutable proof that he'd been right all along about the depth of Thor's love for his sibling and the fact that he was so clearly willing to fight in Loki's corner, but also thoroughly depressed by the knowledge that he couldn't give the poor bastard the break he wanted because that had to be Loki's call and his reindeer was quite obviously not ready to forgive and forget the enormous mess that goldilocks here seemed to have made of their relationship so far.  
“I can't tell you anything, thunderpants. I swore to him that I wouldn't and I'm not gonna break his trust for you. I'm not gonna break his trust for anyone, do you understand me? Loki comes first on my ship.”

“Who is this Pervy you spoke of and why has he dared to threaten a prince of Asgard?” Thor questioned once again, ignoring Tony's refusal to share for the time being.

“Back off, rippling biceps. None of this is any of your business.”

“How can it not be my business? My brother is clearly suffering. He's depressed and on edge and retreating further away from home with every passing day. He refused to accompany the guards father sent down to retrieve him just this morning. He spurned mother's invitation to lunch without even caring to voice a single excuse to soothe the sting of such rejection. He's disowning us one snub at a time, and I shall not rest until I've learned the truth of why he's chosen to do so now.”

Tony felt cold all the way down to his toes. He'd been out at one of Peppers' awfully boring board meetings half the morning and had locked himself inside his lab to work on his latest theory for cracking open that bracelet as soon as he'd returned, so this was the first news he'd heard about the asgardian guards' unexpected visit. He'd have hated to come home and found Loki gone. He'd have hated even more not knowing whether the reindeer had gone back up to daddy's of his own free will or not.  
“Have you tried talking to him about this? It shouldn't be that hard to ask your own brother why he doesn't want to go back home, magic-hammer.”

“There's nothing to talk about. Loki can be stubborn when he feels wronged and often defies father's wishes out of sheer pigheadedness. This is the first time one of their fights has affected my brother's relationship with mother, though. And such petty act of manipulation to force her to choose his side of whatever ridiculous argument he's having with father is unworthy enough to shame him.”

“Maybe he's trying to keep her out of it altogether. And maybe one of you should bother to pose the uncomfortable question of whether your brother needs someone to choose his side of the argument or even what the fucking argument is about. Has it ever occurred to you that Loki could have very good reasons to send your father's guards packing?” Tony asked, pointblank, and could have oh-so-happily strangled the little bastard when he frowned with so much confusion that he had to push both hands inside the pockets of his baggy pajama pants for fear of succumbing to the ever-growing temptation of wrapping them around Thor's neck and squeeze as hard as he could manage.

“You forget I know my brother in a way you never will. Father and Loki have been clashing like a mountain and a blast of eroding wind for as long as I have memory. They are both equally stubborn and rarely see eye to eye. That doesn't mean they have reached the point where estrangement is the only option. Loki is deeply loved. He may have decided to shy away from that truth while he struggles with the pain of his adoption, but nothing can erase the fact that he has always been one of us. He is child and brother and prince to everyone in Asgard. He has a place among our people. We lost him once before and have no intention of doing so in the future. He has nothing to fear from anyone back home, for none of us would willingly allow him to come to harm ever again.”

Tony shook his head from left to right, marveling at how very thick these gods, who were old enough to know better, could be when it came to one another. He stared unblinkingly at the unshakable conviction he could read in Thor's earnest blue eyes and wondered what it'd take to get lighting-boy here to understand that love alone wouldn't be enough to fix this giant mess, unless he learned to express it in the right way. Loki was big into things like 'choice' and 'effort' because he'd never been chosen before and no one except maybe his mother seemed to have ever bothered to put any effort whatsoever into caring for him, either.

The blueberry had been burned far too deeply to keep giving his heart away to the same people who'd trampled it based on nothing but faith. Tony could see that both Thor and his father loved Loki with enough strength to keep fighting a battle they'd never win, unless they learned to speak the same bloody language the silvertongue spoke. He was sure as hell neither of them had understood that much so far, though, and Loki would never even think of giving them a hint. Why should he? They were the ones who'd failed him the most.  
  
Tony could definitely understand the kind of anger that could make someone as painfully insecure as his crush decide to give up on two thick-headed buffoons with the emotional depth of a starved mosquito between them, but that wouldn't help anyone in the end. Loki needed his family in a way that Tony had never needed his own, and the saddest part of all was that they seemed to need him just as much. He had a mother who'd walk over fire for him without a single hesitation and a brother and father who'd probably do the same thing, regardless of the fact that neither of them had a fucking clue of how to show their affection in a way that Loki could both trust and understand. _'Shit. Shit. Shit... These dammed bastards are so_ _bloody busy proving how macho they are on a_ _regular_ _basis that they've forgotten how to say the big L-word to each other.'_  
  
“Did you even bother to give Loki the I-shall-not-rest-until-I've-learned-the-truth-and-crush-the-insect-who-dared-to-harm-you spiel or was that just for lucky, old me? Because I honestly think that listening to that one would have impressed frosty long enough to call you brother once or twice, thunderpants. You should try it, you know? Since it was wasted on me and all that.”

Thor's determined blue gaze skittered away for the first time since their awkward conversation had begun. His head lowered self-consciously and he shrugged those wide shoulders of his in a gesture of such helplessness that Tony's small enough reserve of sympathy went out to the poor bastard, despite his increasing annoyance with the brute's failure to recognize a hint the size of a mountain when a bona fide genius decided to give him one.  
“My brother wouldn't have received such avowal kindly. He's determined to deny my right to protect him from all danger and I... I do not wish to hear him renounce our kinship once again. He does it often enough without such blatant provocation and, no matter how constantly spoken, the words never grow easier on the heart they are so cruelly set on wounding.”

Tony fidgeted uncomfortably, unable to decide whether he wanted to punch the man in front of him or hug him until he cried himself ragged once and for all. The situation between the brothers or even between father and son wasn't as black and white as he'd have liked. They were behaving like idiots, that was true, going about re-claiming their ties with Loki in the worst possible way, but then the reindeer was giving them a pretty hard time and they'd probably had never even heard about the good old art of putting 'effort'. Why should they have? They were the bloody King of Asgard and his shinny golden heir, after all. They had probably never needed to lift a finger to get all the love and adulation they could handle and, now that Loki seemed determined to teach them the hard way that there was someone out there who wasn't willing to shower their oblivious little hearts with his affection for free, they were panicking left, right and center and behaving like thoughtless assholes into the bargain.  
“I love him, Thor. I love him so much I'm gonna deck you if you dare to break his heart.”

Thor blinked at him stupidly, clearly appalled at his bluntly delivered threat.  
“That's... commendable, but I have no intention of breaking my brother. I want nothing more than to see him whole once more.”

“Then you've got to stop talking and start acting, blondie. Loki is enough of a wordsmith to write his own fucking poems. What he really needs is people who are dammed serious about loving him.”

Thor's puzzled face lost it's hilarious confusion and became ferociously angry in the blink of an eye.  
“Are you implying that I'm not? Because I can assure you that I...”

“You don't need to assure me of anything, eel of doom. The last time I checked you'd taken him all the way to Asgard and abandoned him there as soon as you arrived in favor of going off to find your friends.”

“Man of Iron...”

“Do. Not. Interrupt. Me, mucho macho! You left your brother all alone in a palace full of fuckers who despise him, knowing he'd be easy pickings for whoever the hell wanted to give him a hard time, just because you felt like having a good sparring match with the same bloody assholes who've spent their entire lives calling him an ugly, girly, coward and questioning his right to have a place in your merry band of warriors.”

Thor took a couple of furious steps forwards, clearly intent on defending actions he had no regrets about.  
“I invited him to come with me, but he refused to do so. It's not my fault that Loki decided to hide in his precious library and pout all evening long, just to spite me! The Norns know the Lady Sif would have loved to challenge him in the ring. She has always delighted in training with him.”

Tony literally saw red.  
“You mean she'd have loved to either humiliate him by defeating him in front everyone or call him a chicken for using 'magic tricks' to win, if he'd bested her, don't you? I have it on good authority that this Sif chick hates your brother with every bone in her body and she wins every single time they 'train' together because, no matter what he does, she can twist it around to paint herself as either the awesome fucking warrioress who trashed the weakling prince of Asgard into the dirt or the unfairly defeated victim of a cheating sorcerer.”

“That's a vile pack of lies!”

“Is it? Will the truth become a lie because she'd deny it, or because you'd prefer to keep on using the same rose tinted spectacles that allowed you to miss how everyone up there delighted in bullying your little brother right under your goddamned nose while he was growing up?” 

Thor was pale with bone-deep rage. His massive fists were tightly closed as he towered over Tony, clearly a heartbeat away from thumping him into unconsciousness by the look of him.  
“Loki would have never said such things about the lady Sif. He would have never accused a fellow Asgardian warrior of bullying him, as you've implied.”

“He didn't have to say much, thunderpants. The little comments he sprinkles here and there whenever he's too relaxed to bother keeping up that annoying emotional wall of his are more than enough for me. I happen to be bloody brilliant at reading between the lines and trust me when I tell you that the story I've read so far should shame you.”

The thunderer deflated upon hearing Tony's clearly disgusted growl. He took a wobbly step backwards, proud shoulders hunched forwards with the weight of dawning misery even as those earnest blue eyes of his tried to seek a reassurance the engineer wasn't generous enough to give him.  
“You must have read the wrong story, then. It can't have been all that bad. I would remember every one of those slights, if they had been so terrible. I was there, growing up beside Loki all along, and I have no recollection of wrongdoing. My brother has a tendency to make mountains out of anthills, friend Stark. You've said it yourself: he's a wordsmith. A gifted storyteller. It wouldn't have been hard for him to paint a terrible picture of coldblooded neglect and convince even himself it was the truth.”

“Would that have taught him it'd be pointless to seek either your help or your mother's whenever he needs it the most because he knows it wouldn't be offered, anyway, or is it more likely that this attitude of dismissive disbelief that you're so freely showing me right now was the one to do the trick?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that your brother doesn't trust you and that he has pretty good reasons for not doing so. It means you've taught him to be the self-reliant jerk who doesn't want to give you a break through one disappointment after another, Thor. It means that you let him down in the worst possible way at every single turn and you're still doing it, because it's easier for you to blame everything Loki does on his 'unreasonable' nature and his talent to tell tall tales, than to grow the pair of balls you need to confront the ugly truth head on: You are a shitty brother, buddy, and that's putting it lightly because you're also blind and self-entitled and so goddamned unwilling to open your eyes and see Loki for the incredibly talented, beautifully gorgeous and amazingly independent tower of strength he really is that its seriously given me the chills. You don't deserve him. That's the plain and simple truth and I'm not going to stand here a single second longer, listening to your pathetic attempts to turn the man I love into the villain of this story when he's always been the victim!”

Tony was so furious that he didn't even want to stay around long enough to find out whether the hammer he'd used to ram the fucking truth down this bloody idiot's gullet had hit its mark or not. He grunted with indignation and tried to storm right past his now thoroughly unwelcome companion in a bid to put as much distance as he could between the two of them. He'd have given half his fortune in exchange for the courage he needed to head down to Loki's room and hug his god's sleeping body as tightly as humanly possible, keep him near until his own heart had stopped pounding and he'd found some measure of comfort in the knowledge that he'd at least tried to fix this hopeless mess for his reindeer's sake.

Thor caught his wrist in a hold of steel as he tried to stomp past, ruining his gloriously peeved exit at the last possible second and, although he'd really tried to pull himself free with a couple of mighty tugs, Tony had known from the beginning that he'd never manage to escape until his fellow avenger decided to let him go.  
“What the fuck do you want now? I've already said everything I wanted to say to you.”

“Do you realize your words implied that whoever has threatened Loki can be found in Asgard?”

Tony laughed rather bitterly before shrugging his stiff shoulders in a what-the-hell gesture and deciding to give his currently least favorite team-mate exactly what he wanted: a giant headache, Tony Stark style.  
“I never said anyone had threatened the reindeer up there, although I may have been trying to remind you of the fact that each and every one of Loki's emotional wounds can be traced back to Asgard, because he sure as hell has never been harmed _here._ ”

Thor's sharp inhalation told him he'd struck a nerve and he couldn't help the vicious little grin of savage satisfaction that curled his lips upwards as his wrist was finally released.  
“I will get to the bottom of this, son of Howard. I do not lie when I claim to love my brother.”

“Good for you, pointbreak. I hope you're not expecting a medal or an applause, because I'm really not feeling sufficiently awed to break out the good gold right now.”

“Is that all you're going to say?” The asgardian questioned, clearly wounded by his cold and uncompromising tone and Tony's heart went out to him at the last possible second. He'd been in this dude's shoes not so long ago, trying his best to push past Loki's formidable defenses without having a single bloody clue as to why he'd never managed to even dent them. He'd been lucky enough to get a hint from the trickster himself and he was pretty dammed sure Thor would never be that lucky. He'd had his chances and he'd squandered them all by the look of things. But he also clearly loved his brother with a depth that made him... worthy. One last chance. He'd give the idiot one last chance and he hoped to hell and back that he'd grown smart enough not to blow it.  
  
“A very picky asgardian told me not so long ago how to speak your brother's language. Finding the right words to communicate properly with Loki wasn't very easy at first, but it gets better as you go along and he tends to be forgiving when you really, really, try. Effort, hammer-boy. That is the only thing that will ever make you worthy. Effort is the language of the gods. The one thing that often forces them to notice you and reward you with your heart's greatest desire. Effort is the key that opens every door, but you must use it wisely, for it could gain you things you are not truly ready for.”

 

**TBC**

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

****Wooing The Trickster.** ** ****Chapter** ** ****12**** ****  
****

 

Tony wasn't big into apologizing, or feeling guilt, for that matter. He wasn't big -or even small- into getting in touch with his inner angel. Was pretty certain that he'd never actually possessed a prickling conscience and found the idea of anyone listening to an annoyingly whiny little green bug ala Jiminy Cricket absolutely preposterous. That's why the very notion that he'd just spent the entire night tossing and turning restlessly in his bed, feeling increasingly stressed by the fact that he'd opened his big mouth and talked to Thor about his terrible brotherly skills without having OK-eyed it first with the Reindeer, should had made him laugh his head off. Only it didn't. It just brought home how fast his undeniable passion for the most messed up Bluebell in the entire universe was changing his former, stress-free, no-see, no-hear, no-talk-about-huge-messes-that-are-none-of-my-business approach to life.

His dizzying transformation into the kind of dude who would embrace every opportunity to make mushy romantic gestures, behaved like one of those weirdly protective nutters from a cheesy chick-flick and seemed to have developed an honest to goodness moral compass at the eleventh hour was crazy as hell, but it also was, unfortunately, the truth.

Thinking logically about it he'd come to the disheartening conclusion that his new -and frankly puzzling- personality transplant wasn't all that funny. It was a complete and utter disaster that was going to end up biting him in the ass and the worst part of it was that he didn't have any sort of previous experience to draw on when it came to figuring out a way out of the huge I've-just-put-my-foot-in-my-mouth hole he'd dug for himself while in the midst of what must have been some sort of inexplicable emotional meltdown.

He was Tony bloody Stark and the fact that he'd never bothered to develop so much as a single moral guideline meant that he'd never felt the need to bask in guilt before, so he had no idea of how to deal with it.

He'd always preferred the shrug carelessly, confess the-screw-up-in-as-fast-a-speech-as-humanly-possible and swear to fix it at-no-cost-to-you-so-what's-your-problem-pal? approach to the more conventional lower-your-head-in-shame-and-apologize-like-mad BS that everyone else liked to go for. He supposed he could give his usual technique a try but he couldn't see it working on a god who wanted _effort,_ and he was fully aware that he'd overstepped every possible mark there was with his latest stunt. He shouldn't have allowed himself the pleasure of having it out with Thor behind Loki's back, but he'd done it anyway and now he was literally sweating with dread at the prospect of having to explain what he'd done to the Reindeer.

“This is going to be bad, J.A.R.V.I.S. This is going to be suck-balls bad. He's gonna go nuclear on me, isn't he? And then he's gonna pull the green-puff stunt and give me the dreaded cold-shoulder treatment for the next million years. I guess some futuristic Indiana Jones sort is gonna make a killing when he finally finds the mummified remains of the great Iron Man kneeling with supplicant meekness outside Loki's bedroom door.” He muttered dejectedly, giving up all pretense of being deeply asleep. It never fooled his A.I, anyway.

“I feel obliged to point out the highly likely possibility that someone will find your illustrious kneeling body long before it has the time to mummify. Your highly entertaining prediction seems a tad... implausible... to me, Sir. The tower isn't exactly a deserted island.”

“Not the point, Sweet-chip. And my version has a certain romantic vibe to it I like better. Being dug out of my dusty grave of grief by a hunky Indiana Jones lookalike has to be better than getting dragged back here in a drunken heap of snot-clogged misery over my upcoming godfriend-less status by poor Bruce.

“I think you are being unnecessarily pessimistic, Sir. It must be the lack of sleep. You'll probably feel better after a few cups of coffee.” His A.I pointed out quietly as it went through the motions of rolling up the blinds, and increasing the light in the room with the briskness he often used to rouse him from a hangover.

“Pessimism is the name of the game when it comes to screwing up around Loki, Jeeves. He's never let me off lightly so far. Hell, he hasn't let off Thor lightly, and they'd been jabbing each other's buttons for thousands of years.” He whispered warily, pushing himself out of the bed and rushing towards the en-suite in order to drown his creation's pitying little 'Oh' with the familiar sound of half-hearted morning ablutions.

“Correct me if I'm wrong, Sir, but I thought ' _effort_ ' was the name of the game when it came to the younger Mr. Odinson.”

Tony's hand froze on the fluffy white towel he was drying his face with.  
“He asked me to keep my mouth shut and I couldn't. Not even I can sell him the whopper that such epic failure actually translates to my best 'effort' at following simple directions, Jay.”

“He requested you refrain from telling his brother about the magical cuff his father put on him and you complied. As far as memory serves, and since I recorded and encrypted the entire conversation, it serves me very well indeed, Loki Odinson never demanded that you abstain from speaking with his brother altogether.”

“He never encouraged me to accuse him of being a shitty sibling or tell him about that warrior chick's bullying techniques, either. He told me all that stuff in confidence, buddy, and I went ahead and shoved it all down Thor's throat. I just hope that dumb idiot decided to sit somewhere quiet to think about his shortcomings instead of camping outside Loki's room, hoping for a confrontation. I swear I'm gonna strangle him with his own hair if he dares to upset Loki over the stuff I told him.”

“I'm afraid that the older Mr. Odinson has taken a different course altogether, Sir. He called for the Bifrost fifteen minutes after you left him on the terrace. I assume he's been in Asgard for the last six hours or so.”

Tony's eyes almost popped out of his face. “He's done what?” He growled, one third appalled, one third vexed and the last third reluctantly impressed by the Thunderer's sheer commitment to the cause. “Oh, for fuck's sake! Tell me it's not raining, precious. I really want to hear all about the lovely spring weather outlook we're predicting for today, so hit me with it, pal.”

“I'm afraid I can't do that, Sir. Although today's weather outlook was for a warm and sunny day, the truth is that it has been raining steadily for about four hours now.”

Tony's throat dried unpleasantly at the news and his hands trembled as he grabbed the first pair of dirty trousers he could find and pulled them on with a speed that bellied his doomed attempt at sounding calm and collected:  
“That's... unfortunate. Has there been any thunder at all?”

“Plenty. Too much, in fact. Most newscasts are currently broadcasting the news that the city seems to be at the center of an unusual amount of thunderstorm activity.”

Tony's gut churned and his heart dropped all the way down to his toes even as he reached for the least smelly t-shirt from the small mountain that was steadily building at the foot of his bed and pulled it on with increasingly anxious determination to get out of here and down to wherever Loki was before all hell broke lose.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Around two hours.”

“Two hours. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity Fuck! Why the hell didn't you warn me? It's not like I was doing anything productive, anyway.”

“The older Mr. Odinson was gone and you had no way of following him. I didn't see any tactical advantage in encouraging you to worry about a situation you could do nothing about while you were both physically and emotionally exhausted. Allowing you to rest seemed the most helpful course of action.”

A strange mix of pride and fondness rose within Tony's thundering heart upon hearing his A.I's rather touching explanation and he wondered once again how in the world had he managed to create such a sensible and well adjusted engineering miracle when he, himself, was the text-book definition of emotional disaster.  
“There's no practical advantage to be found anywhere in this damned mess, unless you think I could get away with rolling with the situation as it is. I mean Thor goes back home all the time, doesn't he? He could have gone there just for kicks. We've got no way of knowing what's happening in Asgard, but I'd bet serious money on daddy dearest refusing to spill the beans. That'd put him in the dog house with both his kids and the lady of the house, too, and that's something he'd want to avoid at all costs so his gatekeeper/spy/peeping Tom extraordinaire isn't gonna sing for Thor, either. I could get away with keeping quiet about the quaint heart-to-heart I had with Thunderpants, as long as I don't rush into a premature confession.”

“That is a reasonable assumption. It could definitely work.”

“But then I'll be in even more trouble when Loki finds out, and he will. There are too many variables in this situation to get a proper hold of it and If I lie to him now, even if its only by omission, the Reindeer will never trust me again.”

“Then confess, Sir. Confess it all. Some say it's good the soul.”

“Loki is going to go nuts when he finds out what I did an oh, god... Thor is gonna be as frustrated as all fuck when nobody tells him anything. I mean he's not even on the planet and we're getting all this rain... He'll flood the entire bloody city if he goes into the kind of temper tantrum they are always reminiscing about and it'll be my fault, J.A.R.V.I.S. I shouldn't have opened my mouth. I should have walked out of the terrace and forced Megabiceps to grow the pair he needs to fix his Loki-shaped problems by himself.” Tony muttered unhappily, pulling an agitated hand through the worst bed-hair he'd sported in more than a month before taking the deepest breath he could manage, hoping to steady his nerves.

“The older Mr. Odinson wouldn't have let you walk away, even if you tried to. You did nothing wrong, Sir. ”

“That's not true. I could have sent him packing. Told him a white lie. Asked you to get the Blueberry to aid me when everything else failed. Trust me, Loki is gonna consider all of that and then some before going supernova. He'll know I stayed because I was dying to get my Mr. fix-it paws all over that messy baggage of theirs. He'll know I was trying to help and he'll be mortified. He hates being rescued more than anything because he's no damsel in distress and the mere suspicion that I see him in that light is going to tear his pride to shreds.”

“He may be no damsel in distress but he's no lone wolf, either. Taking care of one's beloved is a sign of commitment and that's clearly what he wants. Proper, genuine, commitment is what all his requests about putting effort ultimately boil down to. He asked you to keep quiet about his latest punishment and you did. Your conversation with his brother had nothing to do with the cursed bracelet his father forced him to wear. That has to count for something.”

“Only one way to find out, then. Where is he, Wall-E? He can't have missed the weird rain if it's as bad as you say, so... Gosh! Tell me he didn't call for the Bifrost to go back up there, too. That'd be all kinds of fucked up.”

“One moment, Sir. I haven't been keeping tabs on him, since I assumed you were unlikely to demand current knowledge of his location while in the process of faking sleep.”

“Ha. Bloody ha. That's so not hilarious, budd.”

“That's... odd.”

Tony's gut jolted unpleasantly.  
“What's odd and how bad is this particular 'odd' in a scale from totally disastrous to merely weird? Tell me what the fuck is he doing, J.A.R.V.I.S! Where the hell is he?”

“He's in the laundry room, of all places. Seems quite busy fondling a t-shirt of yours.”

“What?” Tony was so shocked that he froze en-route to the door. “He's _fondling_ my shirts? That's so hot. OMG! I can't believe that sexy thing is hugging my clothes like some sort of bashful teen. Scratch that. I can actually believe it. Gosh, that's so fucking adorable that I just have to go down there and snog the poor bastard to death. Keep the rest of the team out of my way, buddy. I've never had a hot date in a laundry room before but I think this one is gonna be epic.”

“I'm afraid it's also going to be canceled, Sir.”

“Nope, it won't. I don't care who has decided to throw a spanner in my awesome laundry-room date plans, but you're gonna have to get rid of them, posthaste. I'm not available for anyone. And that means No. One. At. All. I know how much you like to pull that old 'there are exceptions to every rule' trick on me, but that's not happening this time. Nobody gets to me. Or him. No exceptions. I mean it, Jay.”

“That is not it, Sir. Young Mr. Odinson is no longer in the laundry room and I can't find him anywhere else.”

“You can't find him? What do you mean you can't find him? How the hell did you lose him? It's not as if he could have disappeared into thin... oh!”

“He teleported suddenly. I can no longer pinpoint his whereabouts. I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault, of course. That vanishing trick of his is so fucking maddening that...” A brisk knock on the bedroom door cut Tony's words mid-sentence and he growled with frustration. “Oh, for heaven's sake! I swear I'm gonna lose it if it turns out that's Pepper, coming to torture me with her endless pile of unsigned documents at bloody whatever-time-it-is in the morning. This is turning into the worst day, ever. Find the Reindeer, Awesome-O. Find him while I get rid of the million-contracts' nutter waiting for me out there because, now that I've pictured Loki sniffing my t-shirts like a fluffy shy kitten, there's no way I'll get any work done until I've rumpled him a bit.”

“Actually, Sir...” Renewed knocking drowned the rest of his A.I's reply, but Tony had little trouble imagining what it had been as soon as Loki's voice reached him, loud and clear, from the other side of the door:

“Anthony? Are you there? Will you allow me entry into your chambers? I wish to speak with you.”

The wave of pure elation that rose from the tip of Tony's toes to the top of the bed-hair that decorated his head upon hearing those words sent his already overactive imagination straight into the arms of one amazingly hot fantasy after another, threatening to turn his knees to jelly.  
“He's here.  He's actually here, Jeeves! I can't believe he's gathered enough courage to knock on bedroom without any pushing on my part. Make sure no one disturbs us. Remember: no exceptions. This is going to be awesome!”

Tony was so excited at the prospect of welcoming Loki into his 'lair' that he didn't even register his A.I's response, busy as he was rushing towards the door. He stopped there for a second, though, and tried to smooth his mad hair with a few distracted pats here and there only to give up the task for a lost cause as abruptly as he'd decided to try it. He turned the doorknob and opened the door so fast that his poor Reindeer took a startled step backwards and blinked at him, wide-eyed.

“Hey, gorgeous! Of course you can come in. I'm dying to speak with you, too.” Tony welcomed him, raking his slender form like a hungry tiger and winking at him saucily enough to bring the most adorable of blushes to those usually pale cheeks as soon as he spotted the object his crush was carrying in his hand. “Is that a t-shirt of mine, Peaches? I hope you love the smell.”

Loki blinked, appearing both unnerved and thoroughly disconcerted by Tony's feral smile. He frowned down at the bundled gray cloth he was holding, studying it with the kind of intensity Newton must have directed towards the pesky apple that bashed him on the head before answering quietly:  
“It doesn't smell of anything. I mean it's clean, I just picked it from the laundry.”

Tony's enthusiasm dimmed ever so slightly, derailed by that straightforward admission of clothes-related theft. The Blueberry's words carried a disappointing lack in the flirty-reference-to-his-manly-aroma department that rubbed him the wrong way for the second it took his mind to analyze Loki's disconcertingly unenthusiastic words before understanding clicked in.  
“Is that your way of telling me that the only thing attacking your nostrils right now is the uninspiring whiff of soap?”

“Er... I suppose. I'm sure the quality of your soap is outstanding, Anthony. I wasn't trying to cast aspersions on your washing habits, but...”

“Don't you worry about that, gorgeous. I get it. That t-shirt is way too clean and you want something a bit more... lived in. There are like five more on the pile next to my bed and they all reek like mad, I promise. Go right ahead and pick the one you like best. I can't wait to watch you rub it all over your face until you purr like a kitten.”

“What on Midgard are you going on about?” His brand new, heavenly boyfriend gaped at him like a fish out of the water, voicing that pretty little protest in a strangled tone that brimmed with Oscar-worthy shock. Tony's foolish heart literally melted as he watched his crush flounder in the doorway like a startled fluffy rabbit who couldn't help but blush all the way to the cute tips of his ears, while directing such a thoroughly scandalized look his way that Tony couldn't help but giggle, feeling delightfully wicked in an I'm-planning-to-corrupt-your-little-vanilla-world-with-my-oh-so-shocking-sexual-depravities way.

“It's OK, Buttercup. There's no reason to get flustered over the fact that you've got an uber-cute sweaty-shirt sniffing fetish. I'm not mad at you or anything. I'm delighted. DELIGHTED. Not to mention horny as hell. Kinkiness is cool. Kinkiness is awesome. I'm a kinky fucker myself, so... yeah. This is totally wicked.”

“I don't underst...”

“Please tell me you're gonna let me watch. You seriously have to let me watch you get it on with one of my t-shirts because that's so bloody hot, babe. I don't know how you came up with this idea but it's awesome. Abso-fucking-lutely awesome with a cherry on the top. And whipped cream. And sprinkles. And maybe one of those pretty hand-held sparkles stuck at the very top, just to keep things interesting.”

“Hand-held sparklers? Sprinkles? Anthony— _Tony,_ you are not making any sense.”

“That's because you're still being shy about all this, Peaches. There's no need for that, though. You shouldn't go around trying to hide this kind of stuff. If this is what makes you tick then this is what makes you tick. You've got nothing to be ashamed of, I swear. I wouldn't mind taking a whiff or two of your manly essence myself. Actually who am I kidding? I'll probably self-combust within sniffing distance of a piece of your clothing and I've never self-combusted in such a novel way before, so I'm all for it, Bluebell. Let's play drown-your-senses-in-your-beau's-scent together, shall we? I bet the lovely sweater you're wearing smells like all my dreams come true.”

Loki took a wary step backwards, all widened eyes, gaping mouth and utterly bewildered expression. He looked so thoroughly shocked that it didn't take a genius of Tony's caliber to arrive at the cock-deflating conclusion that t-shirt sniffing hadn't been his crush's ultimate goal when he'd decided to raid the laundry room for a garment of his. Abject disappointment surged through his fiercely aroused body, leaving him with the most distressing case of egg in the face he'd experienced since he'd left his teens behind.

Sexy times with his beloved wasn't in his near future, by the look of things. He seemed to have jumped to enthusiastic conclusions where Loki was concerned, as usual, and now was going to end up paying the price in the form of a very unwelcome bout of the blue-balls syndrome. _'Oh, man... what a miserable_ _morning. I shouldn't have bothered to get out of bed if all I'm getting today is this kind of fucked-up shit._ _'_

“You're not going to sniff me, are you?” He finally managed to ask, trying hard to mask the crushing disappointment that was coursing through his veins along with the knowledge that he'd obviously read whatever was going on here wrong. “That's a goddamned shame, Cupcake. I'd have loved to plant my nose all over that posh sweater of yours, that's for sure. I'd have loved to plant my nose all over you, period.”

“I... That's—No. I'm not going to sniff you, Anthony, and I wasn't expecting your strange desire to sniff me, either.” Loki answered in a small, startled tone while shifting from left to right with that heart-melting self-consciousness that never failed to charm the bloody pants out of Tony. He looked ready to bolt at a moment's notice but was thankfully staying put for the time being, despite his clear discomfort with the giant pickle that Tony's dirty, dirty, mind had conjured out of thin air and dropped atop his unsuspecting head without any warning. “Why would you even entertain the frankly disturbing notion that I planned to smell your clothes? The very idea of rubbing anyone's dirty laundry over my face sounds positively gruesome.”

Tony chuckled weakly at that, wondering if he'd get away with claiming that shirt-sniffing was some sort of midgardian wooing tradition that Loki knew nothing about. It'd be interesting to see if the Bluebell was open-minded enough to embrace a practice he clearly found weird and disturbing, just to make him happy.

He was so keen on getting close and personal with Loki's soft looking sweater that he seriously considered lying through his teeth to get there for the blessed second it took the annoyingly pious, winged, Iron-mini-man who lived atop his right shoulder to remind him that he'd be in enough trouble once he gathered the courage to confess his midnight one-on-one with Thor as it was, so he'd better be on the level about the whole sniffing thing, if he still wanted to have a godfriend after that giant pile of smelly dust finally settled.

_'Oh, what a whin_ _y_ _little shit you are, goody-goody Iron-mini-man! I much prefer your naughty counterpart.'_ He grumbled under his breath before opening his mouth and waving goodbye to his newly minted scent-the-Reindeer-until-you explode-in-a-giant-shower-of-come fantasies.  
“It's not gruesome at all, Frosty. It's unusual, I'll give you that, but it's also sexy and interesting in a hot and playful sort of way. It was also the first thing that came to mind when I saw you carrying a shirt of mine around. What are you doing with it, by the way?”

“I wanted to ask if you'd be willing to wear it.”

Tony frowned.  
“I wear it all the time, Honey-bun. It's mine, remember? I don't know how this works up there, in the clouds, but we, mortals, don't despise our clothes on principle.”

“I meant to ask if you'd wear it right now. I... It's important, Anthony.”

Now it was Tony's turn to look and feel disturbingly clueless. He stared at the shirt Loki's hands were clutching for a good five minutes, trying to figure out what the hell was so special about it without any success whatsoever. It was just a shirt like any other: faded gray and ratty around the edges, permanently stained with the random spots of old grease that gave it the most reliable seal of this-sad-looking-garment-belongs-to-Tony-Stark there was.  
“Why would you ask such a thing? You've never cared that much for what I wear, as far as I can tell, and trust me: I've tried to impress you with a pair of tight pants or a super-posh tuxedo more times than I can count, so I know exactly what I'm talking about.” He said finally only to end up even more intrigued by Loki's cryptic response:

“I'd rather not answer that until you wear it. I've done something to it. Something that may or may not work. Something that won't harm you, I swear. I need you to trust me for a second. I... Please, Anthony.”

Tony hated those last two words -and the patently insecure little tone they'd been whispered with- with the kind of passion he often reserved for badly designed tech. A muscle on the left side of his jaw started twitching so unpleasantly that he felt like growling at the first Asgardian asshole he could find. Only there were no Asgardian assholes handy nearby, and yelling at his current companion wouldn't work because he was neither an asshole nor a true Asgardian when it came right down to it. He was Loki, just Loki: gorgeous, messed up and apparently in desperate need of something that Tony had no intention of denying him.  
“Give it to me then, Sunshine. I'll have it on faster than you can say cheese.”

“Please, allow me.” Loki whispered, smiling at him so brightly that Tony's entire world shrunk to the size of that beautiful smile with his next blink. His breath caught and his knees wobbled so much it was embarrassing. He used to be a fucking playboy, for goodness sake! He was doomed. Utterly doomed, and he didn't even care. In fact he was so charmed, enchanted and abso-fuking-lutely enslaved by that bone-meltingly sweet smile that it took him an entire minute to notice that he now sported the t-shirt Loki had been carrying while the one he'd been wearing laid, perfectly folded, atop his rumpled bed.

“You magicked this on me...” He whispered in awe, trembling right hand raising to touch the soft cloth of the garment he was wearing, just to check it was real.

“I forgot to ask your permission. I'm sorry. I hope you weren't offended.”

Tony's amber-colored eyes settled upon his Smurf's apologetic features, drinking them in one by one.  
“I must confess I'm slightly disappointed that you didn't give me the chance to dazzle you with the awesome six pack I've been developing just for you, gorgeous, but hey I'm sure I'll find a good excuse to flash you sooner or later. Unless you're willing to let me get away with something lame like: I need you to check my freckles, of course. Actually I think you should go for that one, right now, Muffin. You've got no idea what you're missing. I've never been much of a gym nut, but I figured early on that my perfectly ordinary abs wouldn't impress a guy who grew up surrounded by Conan wannabees, so I've been working out like mad and I've gotten awesomely fit. My chest is nothing like Thor's, of course, but... Ah, shit. I can't believe I forgot to... Er— hey, babe, now that we are talking about Thor, I should probably go ahead and tell you that I...”

“It worked, Anthony. It worked!” Loki cut him off mid-sentence, looking so inexplicably delighted that Tony stopped trying to confess his dirty deed in the I-had-it-out-with-your-big-brother department and stared around in confusion, searching for anything out of the ordinary without any luck whatsoever.

“What worked?”

“The shirt. Blessed Norns, I can't believe it worked!”

Loki's laughter sounded like relief, joy, hope and a thousand similar things that his usually wary Reindeer never expressed lightly. _'You look happy'_ Tony thought, marveling at the beauty he beheld. His lips curved upwards, blooming with their own delighted smile in instinctive response to his crush's elation, and he became uncomfortably aware of his mushy desire to stay trapped in this wonderful instant for all eternity, basking in the warmth of Loki's rare joy for as long as he possibly could.  
“I'm glad that whatever it is worked, Pumpkin. Anything that can put you in such good mood has my most heartfelt approval.”

“Heimdall can no longer see you. I've found a way to render the Allfather's curse pointless.”

Tony's entire frame jolted forwards, hands flying up to grab Loki's shoulders in an effort to anchor himself in a world that had suddenly become a hell of a lot brighter, lighter, better.  
“You broke the bracelet? That's amazing, Loki!”

“No. No. Breaking the king's curse is impossible, but I found a way to bypass it.”

A big part of the brightness that had come out of nowhere to improve Tony's day dulled at that moment. He tried his best not to let his abject disappointment show, but he could still feel it coat the back of his throat with unbearable bitterness.

He supposed Loki's achievement was great indeed, since his inability to cast that particular spell on him had been at the very root of the Reindeer's bone-deep misery when it came to the dammed cuff, but Tony's issues with Odin's punishment had nothing to do with his godfriend's inability to shield him from the heavenly peeping Tom's eyes. He couldn't care any less who the fuck wanted to watch him love -and be loved by- the most amazingly gifted, sexiest, funniest, sweetest alien-sorcerer to ever walk on two mindbogglingly long legs. What he wanted was to return Loki's freedom and cast away those shackles that hurt his skin with the unnatural heat they gave off and his mind with the indisputable shadow of paternal betrayal.

“How did you bypass it, gorgeous? I thought you said it couldn't be done.” He asked dazedly, trying to figure out the eventual prize his clever prince would end up paying for this single act of defiance. His heart clenched when Loki smiled beatifically at him, shaking his right arm free of Tony's hold to press a long-fingered hand right in the middle of his chest in a motion that allowed his elegant digits to dig delicately into the t-shirt's ratty gray cloth.

“It was you, Anthony. I'd have never even thought of rebelling against the king's justice, if it hadn't been for you. I've been seeking Odin's approval for so long that I've taught myself the shameful art of mindless submission when it comes to him. I've accepted his every punishment, tried to meet his every expectation and attempted to conform with his every design for my future. I've been his faithful slave for as long as I can remember.”

“Loki...” Tony's gut twisted into painful knots upon hearing that shamed admission. His stupid eyes started burning like a pair of wimpy motherfuckers as he stared at his Bluebell's distressed features, and his throat constricted unhelpfully at the worst possible moment, rendering him unable to force out the words that were burning the tip of his tongue with what he suspected was the pure and simple truth: love makes slaves of all of us and Loki's father must have felt equally desperate to earn his son's admiration plenty of times. There was affection there, and plenty of it, if the man/god/mighty-cyclops' dogged determination to 'protect' his youngest child from Tony's 'evil clutches' was anything to go by.

“I found your reluctance to accept the presence of the bracelet inspiring. Your relentless search for a way to break me out of it, despite the fact that there's pretty little you can do, reminded me of the first truth I ever learned about you: you are a warrior through and through. You fight to the death in every single battle, putting everything you've got to give at risk, no matter what the odds.”

Tony squirmed from left to right, reacting to that unexpected praise with uncharacteristic bashfulness.  
“Cut it out, you, Charmer. You're gonna make me blush like an idiot and I only like red on my suits. Crimson cheeks are so Victorian.”

“I'm sorry if my explanation unnerves you, but you must listen to it, for I know you well enough to realize that you'll only condone my strategy when you fully understand it.”

“What does that mean, exactly? I'm getting a really bad vibe about this, Peaches, and I don't like having bad vibes when I've just watched you lock horns with your father in a blasted magical duel.”

Tony didn't like one single bit how twitchy Loki became then. His green eyes skittered away, looking everywhere but at him for a full minute before he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders in a way that reminded Tony of the cap's little mirror ritual before donning up his suit every time they were called to join one gigantic fray or other.  
“You must understand that this is important to me. This is a choice I'm making of my own free will and with full understanding of the consequences. I'm not asking you to help me or defend me or protect me. I don't need saving, Anthony. All I'm asking is for you to respect this choice.”

“OMG! What have you done? What the fuck have you done?”

“Watching you bang your head day after day against the Allfather's will made me realize that I have never defied him.”

“Oh, no. Oh, shit, no. Tell me you didn't do what I think you've done, Loki.”

“Listen to me, please: I've never been a true warrior because I always give up too soon. I've never fought to the last breath in all my years. Never spent my last resource on a single battlefield. I've never fought to the death, never burned with passionate conviction in the justice of my cause because I've never believed in anything. All my battles have been fought for the benefit of others, waged to achieve someone else's designs. I've been a soldier without a cause all along. An uninspired cog doing its uninspiring part for the good of the Realm Eternal. The only thing I've ever wanted to do in battle was win and survive. That's why I invariably end up running to safety whenever things turn ugly. I've retreated, hidden and even surrendered plenty of times, just to ensure I'd live long enough to fight another day. But now I finally understand what the Allfather and his son have been telling me all these years: there is no worth in running away. Surviving is important and winning even more so, but second-hand victory is shameful.”

“I hope you realize that's a giant heap of stinking BS, Baby-doll. Living to fight another day is what clever people do. There's no glory in dying like an heroic idiot for no reason whatsoever. I'm all for the tactical-retreat approach myself and, it pains me to admit this, it really does, so don't make me repeat it too often, but I think you're romanticizing the infamous Stark stubbornness too much.”

“No.”

“Loki...”

“Wisdom has never bought me respect. Knowledge very rarely trumps true courage. And courage doesn't take unjust punishments meekly. I may have never been a true warrior before now but I've finally decided to be one. This is my defiance, Anthony. This is my choice. I've finally realized that, even if some parts of the person I believed myself to be were nothing but lies, that alone can not negate who I really am. My truths have remained unchanged because the lies about my parentage were never, ever, mine.  
  
“I've never been Loki Laufeyson and I've never been Thor's equal. But I've always been Loki of Asgard. And Loki of Asgard is a wordsmith and a trickster and the greatest living sorcerer in the Nine Realms. He is the kind of man who fights with words and tricks and... loopholes. The kind who'll find a window to crawl in when all the doors are closed. He's a warlock who knows that not all magic can be defeated head on. That some spells must be rendered pointless by their own small print first, thus weakening the power that feeds them.”

Tony laughed at that unexpectedly irreverent comparison and pulled his newborn fearless warrior into his room, closing the door behind him and guiding him towards the small, stylish couch that usually sat in solitary splendor under his bedroom's large windows.  
“What's the cuff's small print, then? I can't wait to hear all about the handy loophole the-cyclops-of-doom forgot about.”

Loki seemed to relax, allowing himself to laugh with honest delight before seating primly on the edge of the couch and explaining further:  
“Magic is not like your science, Anthony. Magic is not... sentient. It doesn't have the ability to learn. It can't adapt to change, make extrapolations or even compare two slightly different situations in order to decide whether they are similar in spirit or not. Magic can not behave like your J.A.R.V.I.S does, because magic doesn't create works of art. It only creates tools.”

“So you're saying that your mumbo-jumbo mojo is stupid at heart. It needs specific instructions and it can not deviate a single inch from them, that about right, Precious?”

“Yes. The mark of a great sorcerer doesn't lie in the amount of power he can wield but in his ability to block as many loopholes as possible when he's crafting a spell. This means that curses cast hastily are more vulnerable to magical manipulation than those that had been carefully designed.”

“I see... Your dad was angry and unprepared. He never planned to curse you. He just wanted to bully you into compliance and he lost the plot when you told him where to shove it. He just waved his infuriated, magic fingers and voila: that awful cuff was sitting on your wrist like the creepiest birthday present, ever. Yeah?”

“I wouldn't have put it that bluntly, but yes: the Allfather's goal was to shackle my ability to cast the cloaking spell upon you and he designed his curse accordingly, but he didn't think it through. He was too hasty. Too blinded by his desire to obtain that one boon to bother curtailing my access to that particular spell when it comes to casting it over myself or others. I can even cast it on inanimate objects, Anthony, and these objects can be imbued with other spells. Spells that can literally turn them into a fine tuned talisman than can transfer the magic they carry to whoever owns them and even replicate it on each and every object their owner cares to touch while carrying it around, creating an infinite number of other objects, all of them tuned to transfer the original spell.”

“OMG! You turned my t-shirt into a talisman. I'm literally wearing your magic... That's so hot.”

Loki smiled with undisguised tenderness and lifted a hesitant hand to fiddle with the very tips of Tony's messy bangs in a rare show of affection that made the billionaire's breath hitch.  
“You have such a one track mind. It's rather flattering.”

“It's called attraction, babe. Or desire, if you feel bold enough. There's no flattery involved.”

Clearly embarrassed green eyes focused on him, blinking owlishly as the tips of their owner's ears reddened so charmingly that Tony's hopelessly besotted heart melted on the spot.  
“I must confess I wasn't expecting you to be quite so... enthusiastic... about the idea of letting me set foot inside your chambers. We've been taking things so slowly that I assumed you'd be more reluctant to welcome me here.”

Tony laughed at the insanity of that assumption and reached across the couch's sleek cushions to grab his crush's long-fingered hand in a gesture of reassurance.  
“We're not going slowly for my benefit, Sweetheart. We're going slowly because I don't want to rush you. I'm never reluctant to welcome you, Buttercup. You're allowed everywhere in my life. Anywhere. Any time. All you've got to do is barge in.”

Loki shuddered delicately and a veritable army of small goosebumps bloomed all over the skin of the hand Tony held. His sorcerer's swan-like throat contracted as he swallowed and the expression in his eyes turned fierce and overwhelmed as he exhaled the most delicate of soft sighs, looking for all intents and purposes like a thirsty man who'd just been offered the hugest cup of crystalline water in existence.

“That's a very generous offer, Anthony. I—er... Thank you.”

The shocking primness of that polite little answer made Tony laugh out loud. His gaze softened to delighted amber, his callused thumb rubbed back and forth across the delicate skin of his alien-wizard's palm and he reduced the meager amount of distance that separated them with a single ass-wiggle across posh upholstery.  
“There's no need to thank me, Peaches. I'm the one who wins the greatest prize around here with my cunning and generous offer, you see? I get you. All of you. While you get only me.”

Contrary to what he was expecting, his daring declaration didn't spook Loki. The asgardian didn't break contact. Didn't bolt upright. He smiled that utterly brilliant, sunny smile of his instead and laughed with delight. Lovely green eyes twinkled with amusement, stealing Tony's breath anew without any effort whatsoever. He had never seen his mercurial crush look quite so carefree. He had never seen him so calm and content. So close to being... happy.  
“Now I know there's trickery afoot. Tell me, kind sir: who are you, and what have you done with the real -and rarely ever modest- Tony Stark?”

“Ouch! You're judging me too harshly, Sunshine. I can be modest under the right conditions.” Tony mock-pouted, breaking into a gleeful smile when he was rewarded by a small peck to the lips and a wickedly sexy whisper:

“And what conditions would that be, my dear Anthony? I find myself thoroughly intrigued.”

Tony blinked coquettishly and batted his eyelashes with gusto, biting his bottom lip harshly in order to stop himself from bursting into the elated frenzy of giggles that was bubbling up the back of his throat like fine champagne.  
“What's in it for me, if I answer? I'm a very powerful midgardian hero, you know? Can't go around disclosing my weaknesses to everyone who asks without proper... incentive.” He flirted shamelessly, hoping to keep the sexy banter they'd got going for as long as he possibly could. It was so rare to see Loki relaxed and willing to step out of his comfort zone to flirt back that Tony's heart had been pounding with a dizzying mixture of arousal and sheer pride since the moment he realized that his usually shy god was actually trying to tease him.

“I could grant you a single boon to reward your honest answer. I'm a very skilled sorcerer, Anthony. I could probably provide you with whatever you desire.”

Tony's breath caught as those unexpected words short-circuited his mind, bombarding it with image after image of pure, wicked temptation. He could do so much with an offer like that, if he wanted one thing only. But he wanted more than that. He wanted _everything_. And he'd never get everything out of skittish, suspicious, emotionally fragile Loki if he tried to settle for less.  
“You've done that already, gorgeous.” He finally whispered and could have kissed himself with triumphant glee when Loki's green eyes widened in shock.

“I have?” His god questioned with confusion, turning that dark-haired head towards one side in order to study Tony's matter of fact expression with endearing self-consciousness.

“Of course you have. You are everything I desire, Loki. And you're already here, sitting beside me of your own free will. You even made an anti-peeping Tom talisman just for me, while I... oh, fuck. Ispokewithyourbrotherandcalledhimanidiotbehindyourback.”

Loki gaped at him, clearly startled by the abrupt end to their banter and leaned back a little, frowning with disconcertion.  
“I'm sorry. I couldn't quite catch that last sentence.”

Tony gulped with growing dread and ran suddenly sweaty palms all over his messy bed-hair before forcing the words out again.  
“I spoke with Thor last night. I didn't tell him anything about the cuff, so you don't have to worry about that, but we got into an argument and I... I may have shouted at him a bit and called him an idiot.”

Loki studied his contrite expression for a full minute before bursting into peals of slightly malicious laughter.  
“Is that what this awful rain is all about? That must have been some argument. I haven't seen Thor put on this sort of display since he lost the last round of the Mighty Hunter's Games to Udger Jiarson twelve hundred years ago. When I woke up to all this thunder I assumed he'd fallen out of grace with the lady Jane. What did the two of you quarrel about: your failure to order enough pop-tarts for breakfast? The fact that one of you must change the color of your outfit for fear of confusing the masses? No. No. I think I've got it. You fought about...”

“You. We argued about you, Loki.”

The Reindeer's mirth disappeared so fast Tony got whiplash.  
“You. Argued. About. Me.”

“I'm sorry, Lokes. I really am. He caught me railing at the sky like a great, angsting dumbass and called me on it. Said he'd heard me shout your name once or twice in the middle of my rant and wanted to know what was going on.”

Loki turned ash-gray in the blink of an eye.  
“But you said you hadn't told him anything about the cuff.”

“I told him other things, Pumpkin. He was worried about you, said he'd noticed you were unhappy and wanted to put the fear of Thor into whoever had dared to upset you. I told him to take his hammer back home and start swinging it around with gusto because I had it on good authority that all your problems come with a giant made-in-Asgard label.”

“You told Thor to... Why would you do such a thing? Why would you hurt my brother so?” The smurf asked, sounding so heartbreakingly betrayed that Tony's gut churned with regret.

“Because _he_ was criticizing _you_ without having all the facts. He had glued all his clues in the wrong place and was reaching the kind of conclusion that drove him to claim that your refusal to have lunch with your mother in the wake of a fight with your dad made you unworthy of her affection. I flipped, OK? I know it was dumb of me, but I couldn't help it. Everybody knows how much you love your mom, for goodness sake! Thor shouldn't have said something like that in front of me. He should have known something was wrong the moment you passed on the chance to see her, and the fact that he didn't drove me crazy with frustration. I had to point it out, Bluebell. I just... had to.”

“Thor's thoughtlessness doesn't stem from malice but from genuine naivety. You shouldn't have allowed it to offend you.”

“That's no excuse for his blindness and you know it. I understand that you're too afraid of what he'll choose to make the call I made, but somebody had to make it because watching the two of you quarrel like toddlers over all the stupid crap in the universe while avoiding the big issues is getting on everybody's nerves.”

“That's not your decision to make.”

“Well _you_ were never going to make it and _he_ couldn't, because he behaves like such a clueless idiot around you that its not even funny, Buttercup! He was worried sick about you, but he didn't even think of talking to you like any sane adult would have done. He came to me instead. And then had the actual gall to whine on and on about how you refuse to join him and his friends just to spite him. He even mentioned how much that chick who hates your guts is salivating at the idea of fighting you and I lost it, babe. I lost it so bad that I called her a bitch and him a shitty brother.”

Loki gaped at him, going from seething anger to absolutely appalled in a single heartbeat.  
“You called the Lady Sif a bitch in my brother's presence and lived to tell the tale?”

“I think the idea that she'd been trying to humiliate you all along during your so called 'duels' distracted him long enough to make him forget whatever revenge he'd planned.”

“I told you that in confidence. You had no right to whisper such things in Thor's ear.”

Tony saw red despite his every intention to stay calm and collected to the bitter end, so instead of being cool and rational about the mess he'd made and take Loki's understandable displeasure on the chin like the good, apologetic boyfriend he was trying so hard to be, he ended up jumping out of the couch to pace in front of it like a caged lion and growling with rising vexation:  
“I have all the right in the world to stick my oar in this awful pile of shit, if I want to! _You_ may have finally decided to become a warrior, but I swear on my suit's reactor that you'll only become the fucking Lone Ranger over my dead body, do you hear me? You are not alone, Loki. You have _me_. And I am _here_. And let's get this one straight while we're at it: I'm not here because I forced you to accept this thing between us. I'm here because you let me in. You chose to accept my affection. You chose to become mine and that's exactly what you are. You're mine, Bluebell. Mine to keep. Mine to protect. Mine to worry about. You're mine, period. And everybody knows that I'll scratch the eyes out of every bastard who even thinks of trying to mess with MY STUFF!”

Loki looked absolutely thunderstruck. He'd turned as pale as a ghost and appeared to have lost his ability to speak. His green eyes were tear-bright and widened almost to capacity, flashing with a strange and complex mixture of feverish longing and inexplicable anger. He looked sick to his very bones, ravaged by blooming shame, stubborn pride and a hunger so profound that it was making him shiver from the top of his dark head to his boot-encased toes.  
“I have never been anybody's before. It's rather frightening.” He muttered at last with a wobbly little tone that instantly deflated Tony's outrage, piercing it with the skilled accuracy of the accomplished knife-thrower Thor often claimed Loki to be.

“I've never been anyone's either. You're not the only one who is frightened out of his mind.”

“But I'm the only one of us who just made a choice the other may never forgive. You want to keep me safe, Anthony, and I... I robbed you of that chance five minutes ago.”

Tony frowned.  
“What does that even mean? You're right here, perfectly safe and sound, right in front of me, Sweetpea.”

“I am here, and I may be safe for now, but I'm definitely not sound.” His Reindeer countered, waving his elegant fingers over his lower arm and canceling the spell he'd been using to hide Odin's blasted bracelet from him. Tony's heart froze mid-beat as soon as his horrified eyes settled on the reddened skin that surrounded Loki's wrist. His sorcerer's forearm looked swollen, blistered and raw in a way that reminded Tony of third-degree burns while that fucking golden cuff kept on glowing faintly, emitting some sort of mist that encircled Loki's skin from wrist to elbow, searing it wherever it touched.

“What the hell is that? What is happening to you? Why is that blasted thing still managing to hurt you when you said you found a way to render your dad's spell useless?”

“I also said that this was my choice and that I was aware of the consequences. These, my dear Anthony, are the consequences. Every sorcerer worth that name programs a deterrent into his spells, just a little something meant to discourage their intended victim from attempting to reverse their curse. The Allfather's deterrent of choice has always been pain. It's terribly predictable, if you ask me, but extremely effective.”

Tony's first instinct was to yank his t-shirt off as fast as he could, see if his rejection of the Smurf's clever talisman could settle the bracelet's backlash. He wanted to go back to yesterday and find a way to convince the gorgeous pain in the ass he so loved to leave the breaking of the cuff to him. But he realized almost at once that neither of those options had a single hope of working, because Loki may be many things indeed, but hasty wasn't one of them. He was one of the best strategists Tony had ever met and that meant that he'd probably blocked his spell's every loophole trice over before setting in motion what was, literally, the equivalent to flipping his father the bird. 

Helplessness rose within him like a tidal wave, making him dizzy with angry frustration as he was forced to stand there and listen to the fucking owner of his heart talk about how he'd 'chosen' to let himself be so horribly hurt like it was no big deal.  
“Why? What's the point of putting yourself through all this pain for such little benefit? You're a Frost Giant and that thing is burning you, Loki. Burning you! I can't understand why you'd do something like this when you know that I don't care if the peeping Tom watches me or not.”

“I've answered that question already. This isn't about you. This is only about me. This is about the kind of man I used to be and the one I want to become. It doesn't matter whether it bothers you or not that Heimdall can see you, because it bothers _me_. I've grown tired of indulging Odin's whims and I'm no longer prepared to surrender. I want to defy the king of Asgard over this. I want to fight for my right to cast that spell on you with everything I've got. I want to be a warrior, Anthony. I just... I want to be a warrior when it comes to us."

 

**TBC**

 


	13. Chapter 13

  ** **Wooing The Trickster.** ******Chapter 13**** ** **.****

 

If someone had dared to imply as shortly as twenty four hours ago that he'd failed to understand the very concept that the dude he had the uber-hots for was a bona fide GOD, just like his brother and father and the whole of their backward alien/viking/warrior society, Tony would have laughed them all the way to the nearest psychiatric hospital and thrown away the key.

Now, though, he was ready to remain slumped on the miserable-looking patch of yellowing grass he'd found literally in the middle of nowhere, and feel sorry for himself until the very end of time. Or at least until he'd figured out a way to stop feeling like the shocked lump of mincemeat he'd become since Loki had unknowingly rocked the very foundations of his obviously flawed understanding of what was really going on between the two of them via his latest attempt to soothe Tony's 'irrational fixation' with the consequences of his defiance.

_'You must not fret so over this conflict, Anthony. It does not really involve you any more and it won't be resolved during your lifetime. You may have been the catalyst that set in motion the events leading to the release of the bracelet's curse, but you will not be the solution. You won't even be in the equation when the Allfather's little deterrent runs out of magic.'_ Those had been the Reindeer's exact words and he'd said them so matter of factly, so very calmly indeed, that Tony hadn't registered their exact meaning in time to assimilate everything that was wrong with that poshly-worded statement before the Bluebell rammed the rest of it down his unsuspecting gullet.

It turned out that he was overreacting to the situation, whining and fretting incessantly over what was nothing but a bit of recurring pain that came and went as Loki's damaged skin healed and was burned off again in the punishment's never-ending loop. He was treating an 'unimaginative magical deterrent' as if it were actual torture. Demanding to be allowed to look after Loki and telling everyone he was 'sick' in order to secure preferential treatment for wounds that were not debilitating at all and could very easily be ignored pretty much all the time. He was also constantly forgetting that Loki was not 'midgardian' and therefore his body didn't react to physical damage in the same way a mortal's would. Loki didn't need extra time, extra-gentleness, extra care, or any other sort of extra-anything Tony could possibly dream up because he had apparently been trained to withstand 'proper' torture from a very early age, due to his 'lamentable' lack of prowess in the art of battle.

“Those slimy bastards...” He growled at the mere memory of the argument that had brought him to the point where he found himself maniacally strangling a handful of limp grass in the absence of a handy asgardian windpipe to crush instead. “They've been fucking him up in the head since he was a kid, convincing him that he's no good at all that macho battle thing, and torturing him into the bargain under the guise of teaching him how to survive in the hands of the enemy when he finally gets caught, as if his being taken a prisoner of war was some kind of foregone conclusion.”

“Would you like me to add my own two cents to that particular assessment or are you still 'just talking to yourself', Sir?” J.A.R.V.I.S inquired dryly into his earpiece, startling him into sighing so deeply that his chest expanded until the external layer of his undersuit rubbed against the metallic interior of his armor.

“I doubt two cents alone will cover half the stuff you could say about this, Jay. Hell, it didn't even cover a tenth of what the Reindeer himself had to say, and I'd bet he didn't bother to expose more than a 0.000001% of all the dirt he could have mentioned.”

“He is worried about you. Running away, suit in hand, isn't really your style. Young Mr. Odinson hasn't moved from the spot where you left him since you flew out the balcony.”

Tony's already guilty conscience went into overdrive at that. His right hand twitched, making his glove's propulsor flare to life before he cut off the power to it with an irritated flick of the wrist.  
“Oh, shit. I'm in for an eternity of apologizing, am I not? How long has it been already, Wall-E? Three hours? Four?”

“Six hours, thirty two minutes and seventeen seconds, actually. Make that eighteen now, Sir.”

Tony's gut started churning unpleasantly as his mind slowly assimilated his A.I's answer and combined it with Loki's earlier accusation that he'd been so focused lately on beating the 'King of the Gods' in a battle he could not possibly win that he was 'daring' to commit the ultimate sin of wasting what was left of his 'precious life' on something that Loki himself had every intention of dealing with 'after' Tony was dead.  
“He was right. Wasn't he, Jay? I'm an idiot. A stupid, reckless, idiot who was arrogant enough to believe he had anything worth offering to a god. A fucking god, for Christ's sake.”

“Sir...”

“I don't want to hear it, Sweet-chip.”

“That's too bad, because I really think you should and, since you programmed me to act like Mrs. Pots would have in any Loki-related situation, I believe it's my duty to replay the finest point of Mr. Odinson's speech, just to ensure you haven't forgotten it.”

“Don't you dare, J.A.R.V.I.S. I mean it. I absolutely forbid you to...”

“ _I have chosen you, Anthony. And I will not have you for long. I know you're doing it out of affection, but every hour you spend locked inside your laboratory, seeking a way to break the Allfather's curse, is an hour you're stealing away from us. Please, don't let Odin win so easily. This is what he wants, after all.”_ Loki's recorded voice blasted from his earpiece, pronouncing each and every one of the words he'd said before Tony had called his suit and flown out like a coward with the same too-thin tone that had sounded so clearly like anticipated sorrow that Tony's self-absorbed conviction that he knew exactly how much joy he could bring to his obviously love-deprived godfriend had crumbled to dust at his feet, leaving behind the unpalatable truth he'd never even thought to contemplate so far: He was sexy, clever, rich, a superhero... but he was also going to die in the blink of an eye and leave his gorgeous, green-eyed prince in the bloody lurch with nothing but a bunch of bittersweet memories, and the knowledge that he'd fucking loved and lost an awesome 'midgardian' rather than never loved one at all.  
  
“I don't know why he's bothering, J.A.R.V.I.S. I wouldn't have the courage to even try it. The heartbreak alone would be unbearable.”

“Everyone who enters a relationship knows there is a chance that they may survive their partners. Potential loss is a risk all lovers take.”

“Potential loss is a fifty-fifty chance between us, mortals. Or even between them, godlies. But the Reindeer is the only one who loses in our partnership, Jeeves. It's unfair. That's what this is, and I... Gosh! I can't even bring myself to do the decent thing and walk away from him right now.”

“He doesn't want you to walk away.”

“But it'll hurt him less in the end, wouldn't it?”

“That's a question only he can answer, and his decision to -and I quote- 'choose you' speaks volumes in that respect.”

“Judging by how awful I've been feeling since this bracelet business started, I'm pretty sure I'd go crazy if he were to die on me. I can't even begin to imagine how he's coping with the idea that I'm gonna croak it some day soon.”

“You are being unusually fatalistic about this.”

“And you're being too _blasé_.”

“Maybe that is because I already know what you're about to discover.”

“And that is?”

“That all this unbecoming wallowing you're indulging in, sitting on some forgotten patch of grass located so far away from the object of your affections that the cowardice it betrays should shame you to the depths of your soul indeed, serves no other purpose but to cause young Mr. Odinson further emotional distress. You are not going to leave him over this, are you?”

Tony felt himself go cold from head to toes at the very idea of doing such a thing.  
“Of course not. You know I can't do that. I just... I _can't_ , Jay.”

“Then what, exactly, are you trying to achieve by sitting here in solitary splendor? How much more time are you going to waste on pointless sulking? How much longer will you allow Loki of Asgard to believe you're about to walk out on him?”

“Can the guilt trip already, Sweet-Child-Of-Mine. We both know you're just messing up with me. There's no way Sexy-long-legs would be silly enough to believe that I would ever...”

“Wouldn't he, Sir? This is a man who, by his own admission, has been emotionally abandoned time and time again.”

“Shit. Oh, shit. Shitty, shittizy, shit! Where is he, Awesome-O? Does he know where I am? Is there any way he could kind of... come over?”

“Thank science that you've finally come to your senses! Just a second, please. One Loki Odinson hopefully coming over.”

J.A.R.V.I.S' voice hadn't even had enough time to fade away completely before a familiar green mist began to swirl about five feet away from Tony's position. One second he was sitting all by himself on his dry patch of grass and the next he was staring warily up at a barefooted Loki.

Even though most of him appeared to be exactly the same he'd been when Tony left him mid-word, all those six hours and thirty odd minutes ago, Loki now looked way too pale for Tony's liking. He still wore the old and slightly too big purple t-shirt he'd won from Rogers on the one -and only- poker night they had allowed him to play, and the unraveling plat of long, dark hair that Tony had the holy mother of hopefully-still-secret weaknesses for still hung with casually rumpled sex-appeal from one of those expressive -if reedy- shoulders.

The exact same pair of wrinkled lounging pants he'd been using that morning still hung from the Reindeer's mouthwateringly slender hips, effortlessly commanding the most important parts of Tony's 'happy south' to stand up and take notice of all the maddeningly unconscious sensual grace on display. In short Loki would have looked exactly the same as he'd looked earlier that morning to the casual observer but, since Tony was most definitely _not_ a casual observer, he had absolutely no trouble noticing each and every detail that was different about his god's appearance. And there were plenty enough of those to make his blood run cold.

To start with the Bluebell's gorgeous green eyes were dull and unbearably grave. His expression all but locked into the kind of neutral blankness that would have given a dammed rock a run for its money, if rocks had any money, that is. He also looked a lot less open than he'd been mere hours before and about an entire realm -or three- more wary, too. He seemed reserved and watchful in a way that spoke so loudly of rapidly fading trust that Tony's heart started pounding with the most absolute dread.

“Loki...”

“I will not beg you to stay.”

If Tony hadn't been already dragging his unhappy feet along the rocky road of throat-drying, palm-sweating, feeling-actually-lightheaded-with-pure-panic regret, those quietly spoken words would have had the power to plant his remorseful ass there all by themselves. As it was, they managed to make his bad case of the jitters take a turn for the worse, blanking out his usually lighting-fast mind and blunting the edge of his tongue to the sharpness of a decade-old butter knife.

“There'll be no begging required. Unless you want me to grovel at your feet, that is. And I will. I swear that I will. You've got to believe me, Peaches.” He finally managed to stammer.

“Your pitiful attempt at ingratiation will not work on me. I am the Liesmith, Anthony. Manipulating others to my advantage is my bread and butter. I'm bound to recognize -and utterly despise- every trick in that particular book.” Loki's mouth thinned to a disapproving white line that gave Tony the heevy jeevies because it was accompanied by the same sort of faintly disappointed, unforgiving look he often directed at Thor, and there was no way in hell that Tony would allow the prickly bastard to condemn him so dammed fast to miss-spend the rest of his meager enough lifespan sighing longingly after his goddamned sexy bones from the same time-out corner where he regularly stuffed the Electric Blond Eel Of Asgard.

“Hey give me a break, Sweet-pea. I know I messed up and I'm sorry for real. You've got to understand that your words caught me by surprise. I wasn't prepared to hear them and they short-circuited my good sense for a teensy bitsy second.”

“I will not apologize for them.” The Reindeer stated bluntly, crossing his slender arms across his chest in a motion that left him looking even more forbidding, if that was physically possible. “Your short lifespan is a characteristic of your species. I did nothing wrong by reminding you of it. My only error was to assume you had come to terms with the truth.”

“Nobody likes to think about dying unless they're the bloody Buddha, Cupcake.”

“I can not make you immortal. I can not elongate your life in any shape or form. Such things are not within my power to concede, so if your so-called affection stemmed from a wish to manipulate me into granting you...”

Tony's feathers ruffled so abruptly that his entire body twitched with swiftly rising rage. He shot out of his sitting position as if launched from a cannon, flicking the front mask of his helmet away from his face with a pissed off jab at the hidden tab that allowed him to do so manually, just to make sure the Blueberry got a good visual of how bloody mad he was as he stomped towards him:  
“If you have the actual balls to accuse me of cozying up to you to gain some sort of immortality boon from you I swear on my arc reactor that I will deck you, Loki.” He growled, so riled up by the injustice of it all that he devoured the small distance separating them in a couple of enraged footsteps and used the suit's propulsors to lift his frame off the floor high enough to snarl right into his gaping crush's face: “My so called affection _is_ affection, you idiot! So don't you dare dirty it with whatever fucked up shit you concocted in your little head during my slight breakdown. I love you, OK? I. Fucking. Love. You. For. Real. I love you passionately and wildly and tenderly and crazily and in every other bloody way that is humanly possible to love somebody else. Furthermore, gorgeous: I know your insanely insecure mind finds this hard to believe, but I happen to feel all of that FOR FREE. So there, eat that pie and choke on it, if you can't swallow it in one go, Buttercup!”

Loki's stiff shoulders relaxed so abruptly, so completely, that the Smurf actually stumbled half a step forwards. The haughty stranger of a mere second ago vanished like the wispy memory of a nightmarish mirage, replaced by a guy who was all clumsy toes and thumbs, widened green eyes and the sort of vulnerable fragility that would have had Tony running for the hills not so long ago, but that right now mirrored pretty dammed accurately the same mess of terrifying I-want-you-so-much-I-don't-recognize-myself-anymore vibe that kept smashing his own cool to a pulp every single time they were together.

“Why would you abandon me as soon as I revealed that I can't extend your life, if you love me so?” The faintly accented, slightly haughty and always gorgeous voice that never failed to accelerate the usually laid-back rhythm of Tony's supposedly nonexistent heart stumbled over the last words, wobbling in a way that made his Reindeer flush with embarrassment and clam up like the most stubborn oyster of them all.

Tony's ferocious ire deflated like a popped balloon in instinctive reaction to his god's obvious discomfort. His pulse started racing, his palms kept sweating non-stop and his eyes began to ache, burning with desperate relief for this momentary truce Loki was offering him. This instant in which he was being granted leave to explain himself, to undo some of the damage he'd so thoughtlessly inflicted on a creature who was so dammed used to being discarded at the drop of a hat, that he'd never even imagined Tony may have been running away because he was equally insecure and an emotional coward to boot.  
“I realize this is gonna sound cliched, but I swear I'm not lying when I claim that the whole one-man reenaction of The Great Escape I just pulled on you wasn't really about you at all, Muffin. It was all about me.”

Loki looked at him somberly.  
“I know that. Your reaction was fueled by your inability to face the fact that you will enter Valhalla's golden halls long before I do. _If_ I do, that is. The possibility has recently become even less likely than it was a couple of centuries ago, after all.”

“Can't you just can it, please? I don't like the thought of you living for ages after I croak it.”

“Anthony...”

“You're now what two thousand years old, give or take?”

“I thought you wanted me to can it.”

“I've changed my mind. How long will you live under normal circumstances, Peaches?”

Loki's gaze skittered away in a gesture that pretty much told Tony how little he'd like the answer, even though the god seemed determined to keep the knowledge to himself.  
“Come on, hit me with it. I promise I can take it.”

“Does it matter?” The Smurf hedged, clearly unwilling to indulge Tony's curiosity on the topic in a way that only made the engineer even more determined to find out how bad it could possibly be. Because it had to be worse than absofuckinglutely terrible for the Reindeer to be trying so hard to avoid giving him the number, and they both knew it.

“Yes. It matters a hell of a lot, actually.”

“Why? You won't even be here.”

“Because I want to be, dammit!” Tony exploded, shocking even himself with both the almighty roar that came out of his mouth and his shameful inability to keep a lid on the rest of the ugly truth: “Because if you live a thousand years more than me you could shag a hell of a lot of midgardians after I'm out of the picture, and I don't even want to imagine how many dudes you'll fall in love with in two thousand extra-years. Or more.”

Loki blinked, looking beyond appalled.  
“I don't think you understand...”

“No. It's _you_ who doesn't understand. You will be my everything, but I will only be a few hours of your today. I will love you until the day I die, but you... You'll forget me like yesterday's newspaper once I'm gone. I realize that I probably sound like a greedy bastard, and that I'm not the only mortal with a godly hook-up, but Geez! I can't help feeling this way. I can't even begin to imagine how saintly, level-headed Jane can stand this kind of shit.”

Loki inhaled sharply before swallowing with enough discomfort to make Tony feel like a heel for putting him through this awful mess of a crappy conversation, but he couldn't help himself. He was jealous of a future he'd just only realized he wouldn't be able to share and the idea that he'd have only a fraction of everything Loki could give had slammed into him with the power of a fucking ten ton truck, leaving him angrier than he'd ever felt before.

“Jane Foster will never suffer the fate that awaits you, Anthony."  
  
Tony blinked, thoroughly confused.  
"That  doesn't make a lick of sense, Princess."  
  
"It does when you stop to think about the situation long enough to realize that she picked the right brother, while you... _You_ picked _me_. Thor has given his heart to the Lady Jane and that means the Allfather will offer her the gift of immortality for his sake. The Thunderer is his only son and heir: perfect, golden and beloved to the depth and the breadth of the universe. There is nothing the king of Asgard wouldn't do for his pride and joy. Gifting one of Idunn's apples to his mortal lover won't even be the biggest boon he's ever granted him.”

Tony shivered in reaction to Loki's bitter tone and he wondered how fucking awful it must feel to believe himself so far beneath his brother in his father's regard. _'At least my dad didn't love some other kid better than me. He was a same-treatment-for-everyone heartless bastard.'_  
“Are you saying you won't get the same deal? Because that's nuts, Peaches. Your dad has gone to a heck of a lot of trouble to try to get you back home in the last couple of weeks. I think he wants to get rid of that bracelet himself.”

“Or give me an even bigger punishment for daring to defy him, more like.”

“You're being too harsh on him. He may not have told your brother exactly why he wanted you back, but he sent him down double quick as soon as he realized you'd unleashed the magic of his curse.”

Loki chuckled mirthlessly.  
“I was lucky Thor was feeling so conveniently guilty over whatever he learned when he questioned his friends or he wouldn't have been so accommodating when I sent him packing. None of the other warriors who have been sent to retrieve me so far had a single chance of triumphing where the Thunderer has failed.”

“You've got to give them points for caring, babe. Your dad's and Thor's attempts at bringing their heads out of their asses may not be precisely stellar, but they're making them. That has to count for something.”

Loki's green eyes hardened so fast that Tony cringed in sympathy for the pair of holy fuckers in question.  
“One uninspired attempt, _one_ , at fixing their many mistakes does not make them worthy of forgiveness.”

“Thor has tried to...”

“Thor does not _try_. He never does. He flashes his woebegone smile around and expects the rest of us, lesser creatures, to forget his many blunders. He is thoughtless and arrogant and entirely too used to charming his way out of trouble. Forgiveness can not be charmed into being. It must be earned through hard work, and that... that is something the heir of Asgard will never give me.”

“Maybe he doesn't know how. I... he came to see me the other day, right after you screamed for the sixth time in his face that he'll have to hit you with Mjölnir to take you back and—well. It wasn't pretty. He kept begging me to explain to him what was happening between your dad and you. Then he started drinking himself stupid because he hadn't been able to convince you to return, and no one else had managed it either, and he felt so bloody guilty about how badly he'd botched his latest try. He said your mum is a bit of a mess and your father has gone batty. Claimed he couldn't bear the idea of going home to tell them he hadn't been able to sway you.”

“I'm sure they'll survive the strain.” Loki said blithely. “They always do.”

“And you? Will you survive it, Snowflake? Are you really strong enough to reject your entire family, because that's exactly what you're doing. They love you, trust me about that. And they will look after you in a way I'll never be able to, because I'm gonna die on you sooner rather than later. Don't choose me over them, please. You'll end up losing a hell of a lot more than you'll gain.”

Loki's entire frame reeled backwards, face as white as milk and bright eyes wounded by betrayal.  
“It's not your place to disparage my heart's choices. Life eternal does not make dry mud any more precious than regular dirt, and thus no conditional, lukewarm love bestowed upon me half-heartedly can compare to the fire of honest passion you so generously gift me. I'd give up a forever full of them for an instant full of you.”

Tony couldn't have been more grateful -or more overwhelmed- by that boldly stated sentiment if he' tried. He'd never been anyone's first choice before. He'd never managed to beat actual gods to the finish line, either, but that was neither here nor there. The point was that Loki was choosing him over his own family. Had chosen him unequivocally the second he'd messed with The Magical Bracelet Of Doom, and was refusing to back down from that decision no matter how hard the backlash of pissed-off magic was on him, how many warriors Odin sent down on a daily basis to drag him back, or how bewildered his brother looked whenever he all but begged him on bended knee to accompany him home only to be refused time and time again.  
  
Loki had chosen to become a 'warrior' for his sake and, by everything that was holy, he was turning out to be a heck of a ballsy one. _'For me. He's doing all this for me. And I... I'm gonna leave him in the lurch.'_ Tony thought rather hysterically and the injustice of it all was more than he could bear, so he opened his stupid mouth and said the hardest -and most selfless- thing he'd ever said to anyone in his life:  
“An instant of me seems woefully unfulfilling, sweetheart. I may be a pretty awesome genius for midgardian standards, but I'm probably a half-cent wonder when compared to some of the dudes who live on those alien realms of yours. Have you stopped to consider that you could do better than me? You could have someone you wouldn't have to give up. Someone you'll have no reason to forget.”

Loki's eyes turned greener and brighter than they already were, gorgeous in the way all terribly sad things usually are, and when he managed to speak his tone had gone soft with gentleness, making him sound for all the world as if he was talking to a frightened child who was determined to misunderstand the simplest truth in the universe:  
“And have _you_ stopped to consider that there is no one better at all? I've already spent two thousand years failing to fall in love with anyone, no matter how hard I tried. I feared I wasn't capable of the emotion, Anthony. I thought my heart was... broken.”

Tony hated that last strained word with the same kind of passion with which his crush despised all things 'blue' and 'frosty' and 'giant.' The desolate weight of centuries-old loneliness it carried hit him in the chest like a punch from the Hulk, and he wouldn't have stopped himself from closing the tiny distance between them and lifting a metal-encased hand to cradle a breathtakingly gorgeous cheekbone with exquisite tenderness for all the Adamantium left in the world.  
“Don't say that kind of stuff, Peaches. There isn't a single thing wrong with your heart and you know it.”

“Can't you see that you are the only person I know -apart from my own mother- who honestly believes that? This is why I could never forget you, even if I were to live ten million years, Anthony. No one has ever wanted me like you do. Nobody else thinks me worth it.”

“Don't make me blush, Buttercup.”

“Listen to me: I've always wanted to give myself away. I've been dreaming of belonging to someone, warts and all, for as long as I have memory. I need that kind of connection so much, and I've waited to feel it for so long, that I... You have no idea of what you've given me, Anthony. You can not possibly imagine how far I'd allow myself to fall or how much I'd risk for you, if only your love is real.”

“Oh, god, Loki...” Tony felt weak at the knees. He was being mercilessly charmed into a puddle of mushy goo right here and now, standing in full Iron Man regalia atop the most miserable-looking patch of yellowing grass he'd ever seen, in the company of the most gifted sweet-talker to ever walk the bloody planet, and he had no willpower at all to resist his own seduction.

He loved this bloody brilliant, manipulative little fucker with every single atom of his being and there was no power in the universe that could have stopped him from lifting himself on tip toe and using the hand already cradling Loki's cheek to tilt the asgardian's head just so and plant a reverent kiss on his mouth.

Their lips tangled with a loud, passionate moan and Tony tugged his Reindeer closer, plastering them together from lips to toes, even though the metal of his suit was doing too good a job of keeping Loki's body heat away from him for the time being. His mouth was a different matter altogether, though, and Tony could feel it trying to devour his own greedily, teeth clanging messily against his as the god robbed him of reason, air and even the strength of his knees without any hesitation whatsoever.

“Loki. Loki. Loki...” He could think no other thought but that one, feel no other desire, whisper nothing but that name in full knowledge that his world made perfect sense. Loki, his Loki, was everything. The only thing that mattered. The only goal worth achieving. The only prize he'd ever earned using neither money nor intellect. Loki was the fortune he'd secured through effort and determination and the single, bloody-minded resolution to never give up on the bastard while his heart had enough strength to keep pounding in his chest.

Their ferocious kiss suddenly gentled, passionately biting lips softening one sigh at a time, until they began to exchange their first, ever, tender kiss. Loki's usual greedy tension whenever they snogged one another, melted away like morning dew in the face of bright sunshine and Tony's mind started reeling with the knowledge that his god was finally allowing himself to believe he'd never leave.

“I will go down with your ship, Anthony Edward Stark.” The Smurf whispered quietly, looking down at him with such earnest sincerity that Tony couldn't take his dazed eyes away from that pale, beautiful face. From the sober light shinning with conviction in the depths of that green gaze or the delicate tenderness evident in the curve of the breathtaking smile Loki gifted him with.

“And I choose you too, Buttercup.” He intoned roughly, soul brimming with devotion and adoration and the kind of love that must have inspired Shakespeare to pen Romeo and Juliet literally pouring from his pores: “I'm yours from this day forth. Yours until my heart beats no more. And beyond, Loki. You'll come first in my life from now on. You'll come before Iron Man. Before the Avengers. Before Stark Industries and even my lab, I swear. If you're determined to spend the rest of eternity holding onto a handful of decades worth of memories, then I'm gonna make sure that each and every one of them is bloody amazing.”

**TBC**

 


	14. Chapter 14

  ** **Wooing The Trickster.** ** ****Chapter** ** ****1** ** ****4** ** ****.****

  
Tony had always been the kind of dude who had a finger in about six pies at any given time and was never satisfied with how little entertainment he got out of all that stimuli. That meant that he'd always been an overactive pain in the ass who'd been battling boredom of universal proportions for as long as he could remember.

Focusing on one thing, and one thing only, had always sounded terribly dull to him. That's why the idea of long-term romantic commitment had never managed to entice him, since he'd never been able to understand how it was possible for anyone to end up being so dammed whipped that one single individual could become the be all and end all of one's life. Forever. And ever. And, well, pretty much EVER.

He used to think that love of the ever-after variety was for fairy tales and cute little toothless girls with piggy-tails and bows. Or Pepper. And maybe Happy. And Thor and his Jane, of course. And all those weirdos who liked to go around New York hand in hand like they had nothing better to do than smile goofily at each other and get in the way of absolutely everybody else, that everybody else being mainly Tony. Or his car. Or his limo. Yep, he'd always thought those fucking weirdos were the most annoying thing under the sun.

Now things were completely different. _Loki_ different, if that made any sense, and Tony had embraced the giddy romance mojo, too. He'd become one of the starry-eyed lovey-dovey weirdos himself, and he found it immensely liberating. He'd told Pepper to hire an assistant and informed the bloody board that he'd retired. Sort of. For the foreseeable future.

He'd gone ahead and told an apoplectic Fury that he'd only answer Avenger-related calls when the situation turned so bloody black that no one could see the light, and not a second before that, from now on. He'd called a press conference and informed the entire world of the fact that Tony Stark was officially in love. With Loki of Asgard, no less. And then he told everyone who bothered to listen that he was going to 'live the dream', just because he could.

Loki had laughed himself silly watching everyone's reactions, but he'd kissed him softly after every single ordeal and thanked him for not 'keeping them a secret.'

Tony was happy with his lot. He was busy with his new life and he liked it more than he'd ever thought he'd like that sort of one-on-one commitment. He'd learned more about his Reindeer in the last week alone than he had in the two years previous and that had brought home a rather startling realization: he'd been always so busy with his meetings and his cars. With his parties, his Iron Man hero gig, and all his awesome inventions, that he'd probably dedicated about a 1.00085% of his overall focus to the business of falling in love. And once he'd realized that he'd managed to go gaga over the Smurf on such relative short supply of uber-alien sexiness, he had no other option but to accept the inescapable truth: now that Loki was finally in possession of 100% of his attention, he'd begun to truly 'see' the man/god/hard-to-explain-frost-giant-thing he'd fallen in love with in all his glory. And what a glorious sight he was indeed.

Tony had never before realized that Loki was a bit of a neat freak. That he absolutely despised being dirty in any way, shape or form, and that he comfort read whenever he fought with Thor, which was becoming more of a thing with every passing day.

He'd also had absolutely no idea that his sorcerer tended to dance barefooted on the balcony of the abandoned ballistic control office, down on the 16th floor at WTF time at night when the pain in his cursed arm bothered him too much to fall asleep, so the first time he'd found Loki doing his thing down there he'd been absolutely transfixed by the beauty that was his long-legged Buttercup in motion.

“I didn't know you could dance like that, Reindeer.” He'd whispered breathlessly, startling his twirling prince mid-step and cutting short the rhythmic humming Loki had been swaying to.

The spirited dancing had come to a rather abrupt -and thoroughly unwelcome- stop and Loki's shoulders became rigid as he stood in the middle of the room, back so carefully turned towards him that Tony knew, just knew, that he'd never been meant to see his crush like this. As soon as that realization hit him his curious little brain began to wonder how many people out there even knew that Loki danced like the Prima Ballerina Assoluta to make all Prima Ballerinas Assolutas weep with jealous despair, and he didn't like the answer that came, unbidden, to his mind. _'No one. There's not a single fucking soul in the_ _Ni_ _ne_ _R_ _ealms who_ _has_ _ever_ _seen him like this. I'd bet my_ _entire_ _car collection on that_ _hunch_ _and I'd end up keeping every single one of_ _my machines_ _.'_

Loki was all ablush and pale-faced when he finally gathered enough gumption to turn towards him, bashful gaze skittering away with the kind of uncharacteristic vacillation that Tony was sure he'd have gone to great lengths to mask if he'd been interrupted by anybody else. _'But_ _I'm the one who found him_ _, and he chose me._ _H_ _e's trying his dammed best not to hide_ _any part of himself_ _from me_ _, no matter how much he may want to_ _do so_ _.'_

“I was not. Dancing, that is. I swear to you that this is not what it looks like, Anthony. I was just... moving to the rhythm of my thoughts. I realize it sounds strange but I... I do not—You will not be dishonored by a partner who regularly embraces the feminine arts. Practicing Seidr so openly is bad enough, but that is all I'll ever do.”

“I take it Seidr is the name you guys give to your magic mojo, then?” Tony decided to intervene before Loki went ahead and dug himself a grave that didn't need any digging. He could see the Smurf's growing panic surging like a tidal wave across the emerald depths of those beautiful eyes and didn't much care for the asgardian-jerk induced self-hatred it betrayed.

“Yes. Seidr is the sorcery of my people. It's the knowledge and manipulation of both mystic healing and divination. It's also an asgardian woman's gift and birthright.” Loki whispered quietly, voice so low with crystal clear shame over his own affinity for a female's talent that Tony had to bite his lower lip as hard as fuck to keep the frustrated growl that was clawing up the back of his throat from making it out into the open.

“But you're neither a woman nor an Asgardian, so who's to say the kind of Seidr you practice is not your fucking birthright, too? I can't help but notice you don't do much mystic healing, and divination seems to give you the giggles every time you try looking into those glass bowls of yours.”

“Anthony...”

“Your magic is bloody kick-ass, Peaches. 100% warrior macho stuff of the wispy green variety. I haven't seen a single asgardian babe go all Merlin-in-a-huff on the battlefield so far. I actually haven't seen a single asgardian babe on the battlefield, full stop. And don't you dare go on and on about that Sif chick's 'amazing prowess with a broadsword', because that one is more man than chick, anyway. ”

Loki's attempt at nonchalant laughter fell so short off the mark that Tony's throat closed tightly and he had to literally dig his white-knuckled fingertips into the doorway's metal frame to keep himself in place as he watched Loki's arm twitch uncertainly upwards, the motion so devoid of that undefinable 100% sexy Reindeer elegant gracefulness that it managed to break Tony's pounding heart long before the awful words his Cupcake whispered reached his ears:  
“If you believe the Lady Sif more male than female for her desire to fight alongside the best warriors of Asgard, instead of languishing in my mother's gardens and submitting herself to Freia's Seidr lessons, then how can you see me as anything other than a Lady who bears a rather unfortunate number of masculine body parts, Anthony? I enjoy reading and writing. I learned philosophy and the language arts before I even lifted my first bow. I attended Freia's tiresome lessons until the day finally came when her knowledge could no longer further mine. I do not enjoy the hunt. Or drawing blood in the battlefield. I've never laid with a woman in my entire life. I am 'artsy' and a warlock. I'm argr, and I... I dance.”

Tony could smell one of those nasty asgardian hang-ups rearing it's ugly head and, although he was certain that someone better prepared to deal with a fucked up bastard's emotional mine fields would have grabbed the extra bucket of patience he seemed to have lost somewhere between Loki's first denial of having been caught dancing and this gut-wrenchingly pained admission to having committed the deed, he decided that pretty words of gentle 'understanding' weren't the way to deal with his Bluebell's gender identification issues.

He pushed away from the doorway and approached his wary beloved with as much calm confidence as he could possibly portray when his mind was busy discarding the probably useful idea of pointing out that Captain America himself was an 'artsy' sort of dude. That Bruce Banner liked to read bloody poetry in the helicarrier to 'keep his mind off things' whenever he was being flown into battle. And that Hawk-eye spoke five languages fluently enough to fool the locals. None of those things were enough to make anyone here, on Earth, even think of accusing their fellow Avengers of being 'girly' just because they liked to draw stuff, or read old, flowery words, or were actually clever enough to learn to speak another language when most folks struggled daily to make themselves understood in their mother tongue.

For all that Loki was a man of words, his heart seemed to need actions when it came to things like feelings, and Tony had no intention of beating around the same dammed bush for another two years of their limited time, just to make sure he'd got laid, so he took a deep breath and decided to confess exactly what his ever-hopeful dick had been thinking since the moment he'd set eyes on his very own version of Swan Lake's lovely Odette, twirling around like the sexiest, hottest wet dream he'd ever had:  
“Looks like I'm argr, too, Peaches, because I absolutely dig this lone Prima Ballerina thing you've got going. I actually dig pretty much everything you care to put out there, no matter what it is, and I'm not ashamed of that in the slightest. You. Make. Me. Hard, Lokes. You make me wish I was female myself, or magical and eternal and whatever the fuck else you need your life-partner to be. You make me want to run down the street and start dancing all over the place like a punk on drugs, just to show you that I can and will do it, too. I'd dance all night long, if I have to. And I'd do it with pleasure, gladly even, if I knew it'd make you smile.”

“Anthony...”

“I often dance when I'm drunk, anyway. Or hot and bothered. Or feel like blowing off steam in some dark bar. None of that makes me feel any less manly, Sweet-pea. And I couldn't see you as a lady who bears an unfortunate number of masculine body parts, even if I tried, because I fucking _love_ your masculine body parts, so there!”

Loki's beautiful lips parted in a gasp of utter shock and his already high color rose like a clinging vine up his lovely cheeks, conquering every inch of that gloriously pale skin until it reached the roots of his dark hair and the very tips of his delicate ears. Emerald green eyes skittered away once again, but not before Tony noticed how widened they'd become, how very vulnerable they made their shy ancient owner look with so little effort.  
“Would you dare then to let me... No. I can not possibly ask such a thing of you yet. It's way too soon for...”

Tony made a grab for the nearest flailing hand, bringing his Smurf's distressed stream of words to a rather abrupt halt and planted the thumb of his other hand directly under that pointy jaw, forcing self-conscious green eyes to focus squarely on him.  
“You can ask anything you want of me, Loki. I... There's probably no treasure out there I wouldn't lay at your feet, if you cared to demand it.”

“Do not toy with my needs, Anthony. Do not promise me boons you can't deliver, for I have no wish to jeopardize the trust I've placed upon you.”

“I'm just saying you can ask. I'll only be able to deliver the stuff that's within my power to procure. Those are all yours for the taking, anyway. Or they will be, as soon as I find out you want them.”

Loki pulled his free hand upwards, burying trembling fingertips in Tony's unbrushed hair in a gesture that portrayed such desperate need to touch, to wrap himself around Tony and never, ever, let go that the engineer stepped instinctively closer, trying to tell him without words that he could hold onto as much of him as he wanted, for as long as he needed to do so. _'All of me, gorgeous. You can have each and every part of me you care to keep.'_

“I have fallen on my knees for many men, yet I tremble at the thought of offering such a thing to you, Anthony. I'm neither courtesan nor tavern wench, and I have no wish to sully whatever good opinion you have of my character, but I— I have needs. You once told me that we aren't going so slowly for your benefit, but mine. You said you'd welcome any advance I cared to make. That all I had to do was barge in...”

Tony's entire frame flamed from head to foot with overwhelming desire. He felt as if some mighty giant had just picked him up and dunked him straight in the middle of an erupting volcano, leaving him there to roast alive from the inside out.  
“Oh. My. God! You, you want— _You_. _Want_. That's... I'm so honored, Loki.”

Green eyes looked right at him with limpid, honest desire.  
“Does that meant you'll consent to letting me pleasure you? I may not be skilled enough in the arts of the wicked to seduce you with a look or a softly whispered word, but I've learned to use my mouth well enough to make you see stars. I promise you won't regret allowing me to take such liberties with your person.”

Tony would have self-combusted on the spot and seen all those dammed stars already from nothing but his god's lust-roughened tone alone. He'd have let wild hordes of blood-thirsty nutters conquer his beloved planet without a second thought for the pleasure of having that mouth on him too, if it wasn't for the teensy-weensy detail that he'd imagined their first pretty much _everything_ about a million times already in glorious technicolor, and not a single one of them went this way. No, Sirree! He'd decided weeks ago that he'd be the one on his knees when the time finally came for them to do the deed. Loki had been the one worshiping motherfuckers for as long as he'd had sex, and it was high time somebody showed him how it felt to be Adored with a capital A and a cherry on the top, just because.

“I'm not planning to regret it, Scheherazade, but it'd please me a hell of a lot more to be the one on my knees. I'm quite proud of my oral skills, you see, and I want to be able to boast that I made a god see stars, planets and entire dusty old galaxies as soon as humanly possible.”

“You wish to... kneel... for me?” Loki whispered haltingly, looking so thoroughly thunderstruck by Tony's carefully voiced offer that the engineer swore to himself right there and then to worship him to within an inch of his life. _'I'm gonna rock your world, Peaches, and then I'_ _m gonna_ _keep rocking it until the end of time.'_

“Yeah. I wanna go down on you. Want you to push that lovely cock of yours so far down my throat that I have no other option but to choke on it and take it. I want you to fuck my face hard enough to give me whiplash, babe. Oh God... I want to eat you alive, Loki.”

The most delicate shade of pink bloomed across the Reindeer's cheekbones as those eyes, so green, so hungry, stared right at him with flustered intensity. Tony knew he had shocked the Smurf speechless and he couldn't think of a single advantage to be had in letting him regain any semblance of composure before he'd managed to plant himself right between those maddeningly long legs and was holding onto the Smurf's holy dick like a tenacious barnacle.

He wanted inside Loki's pants with enough eagerness to send his conscience packing long enough to step forwards and crowd his reeling beloved against the nearest wall before planting a single toe-curling kiss on his mouth. He was hoping the move would make the Reindeer nice and pliable for the pleasure that awaited him, reducing the possibility of giving him enough time to even think of having cold feet, thus depriving them both of what promised to be a seriously glorious encounter of the third base variety.

Loki yielded to the kiss instinctively, melting against him like a warm blanket of fudge and Tony used the distraction to come even closer, plastering himself all over his god's front in a way that brought their painfully hard erections into perfect alignment and frightened the Bluebell into jerking his head upwards, breaking their perfectly good smooch into the bargain.  
“I... maybe we should stop and think about this properly.” He panted in agitation, trying his best -and failing epically- to push Tony off his sexy and lanky body. “You can't possibly understand how very dangerous it is for you to tease me so, Anthony. I haven't been touched in so long that I—I may not be strong enough to hold myself back if you so much as grant me the smallest leeway to feast upon you.”

Tony's lungs lost every last bit of air they had been holding and his boner grew so hard he'd probably had been able to use it to battle Thor's own hammer, if the poor bastard had decided to interrupt them at that point in some sort of ludicrous attempt to get between his little brother's pants and Tony's greedy prick.  
“Who says I'm teasing you, pumpkin? Go right ahead and feast all you like. Oh, fuck. Yeah... nibble me daintily with those pearly whites of yours, why don't you, Peaches? Suck purple bruises all over me and tug on my hair like a wild thing while I choke on your cock over and over and over again. Ah, hell... I swear on poor J.A.R.V.I.S' not-so-innocent cyber cherry that I'm gonna cum, untouched, in my pants, just thinking about it, babe. That's how fucking much I want you.”

Loki's laughter was a lot more breathy now and a whole heap less strained. His eyes had begun to darken from shimmering emerald to a mesmerizing sort of bruised teal that made him look almost feral. This wasn't Loki, the Trickster. Oh, no. This was Loki, the god of fire, and he appeared to be burning from the inside out with pure lust. And need. And a longing to be held that was thick enough to make Tony honestly think he could touch it, if only he gathered enough gumption to lift his itching-for-a-grab fingertips and pawed his glorious prince like the deranged beast he was a hair's breadth away from becoming.

“Do not party thus without me, mortal. For I won't easily forgive that kind of rudeness.”

“Then have me, dammit! You're driving me crazy, Lokes.”

“Some say patience is a virtue, my lovely Anthony.” Loki purred, white teeth flashing behind his wicked grin even as Tony threw himself at him again, desperate for some sort of 'proper' body contact.

“Patience can go fuck herself somewhere very far away, Smurf. Come on, touch me, gorgeous, rake those pretty nails of yours all over me.” Tony begged him shamelessly and all but swallowed his own tongue in blissed out reaction to their much anticipated skin-on-skin contact when his Alien Wizard finally deigned to bend that long neck of his low enough to rub the cold tip of his nose along the line of Tony's jaw, following the small, cool touch with playful little nips here and there that were slowly, but certainly, killing him with lust.  
“Kiss me. Oh, Gosh... Kiss me properly, for fuck's sake, you, teasing little bastard!”

The cruel son of a bitch he loved so dammed much chuckled against the hollow of his throat, licking a broad, wet, stripe of groan-inducing fire up the front of Tony's neck before sucking greedily on the very tip of his goatee-covered jaw, making him weak at the knees long before that devastatingly playful mouth bothered to give him the bone-meltingly ravenous snog Tony had been begging for.

 _'God. Oh. God. Oh. My. Fucking. Jesus. Christ. Wearing. A. Freaking. Pink. Tutu._ _While._ _Jumping. On. A. Pogo Stick.'_ Tony thought incoherently as his lips were passionately bitten and his tongue all but conquered in the most forceful way anyone had ever dared to claim it. He wasn't in the least bit embarrassed to be moaning like a bitch in heat as he dangled from the neck of the only creature in the universe who had ever managed to make his amazing brain liquefy into a giant puddle of goo.

Anthony Edward Stark, modern day slut extraordinaire and more than seasoned Casanova in his own right, had literally no other option but to giggle like a slightly hysterical ingenue when he felt himself all but swoon in Loki's arms as soon as the Bluebell managed to let go off his tingling lips.  
“I'm gonna kill every lucky bastard you've ever kissed like that, Peaches.” He mumbled under his breath, drunk on lust, blossoming jealousy and the kind of possessiveness he'd have never in a million years imagined he would manage to develop over any living thing.

“I have never kissed anyone like that, Anthony. And now I never shall. However many kisses the Norns have decided to bless my future with, they are all yours and yours alone.”

Tony groaned once again, lifting himself on tip toes to peck Loki hungrily on the mouth. And the cheek. And the jaw. Wanting to eat him alive, know how all that pale skin tasted and fill his twitching nostrils with the musky scent of increasingly aroused god about to let himself be thoroughly debauched.  
“I want out of here, babe. I want you on your back, on my bed. As naked as the day you were born. I'm not gonna have you standing up against the wall, like you're a nameless pull from a pub. You won't walk out of this one without baring a hell of a lot more than your cock to my sight.”

“Anthony...”

“You are gonna get the Tony Stark Loki Special, Reindeer. A set of moves designed just for you. So come on, do that wispy thing of yours and magic us into my bedroom. Try aiming for the mattress if you can manage it, please. I'm not really in the mood to walk all the way up there right now, and I can think of a million better things to do with the time and energy I'd waste on something you can so easily take care of for me, Bluebell.”

Tony had sort of guessed that his request would turn his magic-proud beloved into gooey putty, but he hadn't anticipated the sheer gratitude that would flash across those expressive green eyes or the beauty of the smile that illuminated the Smurf's already breathtaking enough features when he gathered him in his arms like the most precious of treasures and murmured softly in his ear:  
“Magic. You will allow me to unleash magic upon you... Your wish is my command, my wondrous mortal.”

One second he was drooling over the brightening of Loki's gorgeous face and the next Tony was blinking owlishly into thick, unfathomable, darkness. They landed atop his bed a second later, falling with the softest 'plop' onto his emperor size mattress and getting immediately tangled in the rumpled heap of bed sheets that he hadn't bothered to straighten after napping for five hours straight that afternoon.

Loki harrumphed under his breath when his bony ankle got caught in a specially loving knot of gray linen, and Tony was forced to let go of the pale bit of neck he was attempting to go full Dracula on to whisper the only mortified apology he'd ever given to a lover:  
“Sorry. Sorry, Peaches. I know the bed's a dammed mess, but it's all mine and you look like a million bucks spreadeagled over it.”

“Flattery will get you pretty much everywhere with me, Anthony.” The Reindeer breathed, forgetting all about the sheet curled like a vine around his ankle in order to offer him a bona fide sizzling, come-hither flutter of sooty black lashes that didn't quite manage to mask the utmost seriousness of his statement. Tony's hands got busy cradling that breathtakingly beautiful face and he looked into vulnerable emerald eyes until he felt himself being pulled so very deep inside them that he feared he'd never come out of there alive.

“That's absofuckinglutely awesome, Buttercup, because I wanna go everywhere with you, sweetheart. And we are gonna start by flying all the way to heaven without ever leaving this bed. That OK with you, sexy thing?”

“Yes. Of course that is OK with me.” Loki answered him so earnestly, so solemnly, that the lighthearted instant Tony had been aiming for turned heavy with emotion. Dragging them both into full awareness of the fact that here they were: together in bed for the very first time, about to walk down a path neither of them had ever traveled quite so seriously before. Love... they were going to make love, no matter what they actually got up to. The idea was both frightening and exhilarating. It was huge, too. Probably the hugest thing Tony had ever contemplated. Or done. Or even dared to feel. He was going to adore Loki to within an inch of his life, that was the only thing he was truly certain of.

Work-callused thumbs liberally splattered with old grease -and smelling faintly of engine oil- rubbed ever so delicately against utterly soft, aristocratic cheekbones as their owner watched Loki submit easily to the touch, darkening green eyes full of need and mounting desire, wary caution almost completely thrown aside in favor of visible trust.

“I love you.” Tony told him and those were the easiest and most difficult words he'd ever said. He'd said them before to this man, growled them right in his face even, but he'd never meant them like he meant them at that moment. He'd never before felt his heart go out of his chest altogether with every whispered syllable, and he knew Loki could sense the utter seriousness of his statement.

“I love you, too.” Loki mumbled in response, eyes ablaze with a terrified sort of fear and the kind of courage born of that trembling sort of stubborn defiance that Tony was beginning to associate with Loki's greatest moments. The unexpected words hit him like a powerful punch. Left him breathless and exposed. Touched him right down to the bone. His eyes closed and his Adam's apple moved up and down wildly as he tried -and failed- to express how much hearing his god say such a thing had actually meant to him.

Loki trembled beneath him, green eyes wide and looking oh-so-very-fragile as he waited for Tony's reaction. They both knew that he'd never said anything like this to anyone at all before. Not even to Tony himself. Oh, no. He'd said plenty enough about 'choosing' him and 'sacrificing' things for his sake, but had never labeled his feelings in any shape or form. He'd managed to imply the depth of his emotions through actions without ever saying the words. Not even by mistake. And, now that he'd dared to utter them, Tony could finally acknowledge how much he'd needed to hear them.

“Come here, you, ballsy bastard...” He finally managed, all raw tone, red-rimmed eyes and a kind of ferocious need to cradle his messed-up Asgardian so close to his own heart that Loki would have no other choice but to listen to the dammed thing pound in his chest just for him.

Loki sighed and the sound carried both deep relief and willing compliance. His long frame curled easily into Tony's arms, pale forehead landing in the crock of his right shoulder as he sneaked both hands under the Smurf's narrow back, lifting him slightly off the mattress in order to plant a reverent trail of small, open mouthed kisses all over the crown of his head, the curve of his cheek, the line of his jaw and the straining cord of that long, swan-like neck.

Loki moaned timidly and pressed himself closer. Dark head falling back in order to offer Tony as much exposed skin as humanly possible. The engineer hummed in approval and descended like a ravenous wolf upon the pulse thundering like crazy on the side of that long neck, kissing the fluttering flesh greedily while his hands kneaded the Reindeer's shaking shoulders before trailing down those spindly arms until a slight flinch of discomfort reminded him in no uncertain terms of the unwelcome fact that his love was under a painful curse, no matter how manfully he bore it.  
“Sorry. I'm so sorry, babe.” He choked out, lifting contrite amber eyes towards clearly pain-filled green ones.

“It's alright. I forgot the burn was there, too. I... please don't let it put you off having me, Anthony. I can disguise the limb with magic if the sight of it is abhorrent to you.”

Tony's calloused palm rubbed up and down the affected arm, careful not to touch the wounded skin too roughly, but stubbornly refusing to ignore its existence altogether.  
“Nah. This is a part of you, my fierce warrior. There's no way I want it hidden like some sort of awful defect. I may not like how much it hurts you, but I'm dammed proud of the balls it took to get it, Buttercup.”

The overwhelmed gratitude that flashed across Loki's gaze at that moment stole Tony's breath away and he kissed the Smurf's wounded skin reverently, lips as soft as butterfly wings, even though the desire behind his caress should have been strong enough to set the bloody South Pole on fire. He kissed and kissed that trembling arm upwards, never stopping doing so until his lips found the unwelcome barrier of a soft, if ratty, t-shirt.

The Reindeer's breath hitched in protest as soon as he started easing back, bringing a tender smile to Tony's lips and he couldn't resist pecking that flustered face once again before whispering reassuringly:  
“Easy there, babe, I'm not going anywhere. We just need to get rid of these clothes of yours. They're cramping my style, you know?”

Loki laughed with the sort of bell like giggle that never failed to turn Tony's knees to useless jelly and lifted a careful hand to play shyly with the very tips of the billionaire's messy bangs.  
“I could solve that pesky problem with a single snap of my fingers. Would you like me to do that, beloved?”

Tony's tongue tied itself into clumsy knots at the unexpected nickname, but he managed to smile so very brightly indeed that not even his paranoid Buttercup could possibly misconstrue his lack of words for any sort of reluctance to being so boldly claimed.  
“Nah. I want to peel this stuff off you all by myself. I wanna unwrap you like the best present I've ever received, Cupcake.” He mumbled, bringing trembling hands forwards to tug the hem of his god's t-shirt upwards and off in a single, clumsy, yank.

Loki's long, sculpted chest came into view and Tony's eyes feasted upon it with such attention to detail that the Blueberry started to squirm under him, clearly uncomfortable with his awestruck staring.  
“I can't believe you're letting me have all of this, babe.” He muttered under his breath, running the very tips of his callused fingers down the center of Loki's heaving chest. A trail of aroused goosebumps followed his touch like a faithful shadow, and his toes literally curled when he heard the startled little moan that escaped his Muffin's parted lips when he brushed a rose-colored nipple with the pad of his thumb.

That small sound awoke something utterly fierce and ravenously hungry inside of Tony. Something that desperately craved more of those breathless little moans. More of Loki's beautiful surrender. His lips fell over the god's defenseless nipples with the kind of voracity that would have terrified half the giggling bimbos he'd once bedded, but Loki only groaned louder and jerked slightly off the bed, pressing one gloriously sensitive man-tit after the other into his greedy mouth and thrashing with wild abandon after every single pass of the flat of Tony's tongue against the hardening, pebble-like tips.

Tony suckled the Reindeer's right teat noisily, dribbling saliva everywhere before biting it playfully, making Loki first gasp in absolute shock and then shudder from head to toes, clearly overwhelmed by the pleasure-pain sensation that was coursing right through him. Tony shushed him, licking the slightly reddening skin soothingly before moving down to adore one protruding set of ribs and then the other.

“Oh.” Loki choked out between one slow blink of clearly dazzled green eyes and the next, making Tony smile predatorily against the flesh he'd been sucking purple bruises into and attack it all the harder, raking his short nails all over a slightly fluttering belly before following the barely-there happy trail of dark soft curls that surrounded the most sensitive bellybutton he'd ever tongue-fucked all the way down to the edge of his Cupcake's deliciously tented pants.

“Tell me I can go on, gorgeous.” He pleaded when he'd kissed every single inch of skin already on display and couldn't bear to delay his growing desire to move downwards a single second longer. His own dick was so hard already that his jeans had become the worst sort of torture chamber, and he used the small instant that passed between Loki's initial lust-glazed blink of confusion and his head's timid motion of assent to pull off his own t-shirt, flick open his trouser's button and pull down the zipper on his fly, bringing himself much needed relief and wrenching another thoroughly aroused groan out of Loki's lovely throat.

“Take them off completely, Anthony. I want to see you bare.”

Tony grinned like the fucking Cheshire Cat even as he took hold of the hand trying to yank his jeans lower and tangled their fingers together, squeezing them ever so gently until his Peaches stopped fumbling with his pants and looked curiously up at him.  
“Let them be, please. I don't want us to go all the way tonight, Buttercup. And I doubt I could stop myself from trying it, if I let this prick of mine out of its cage.”

Loki's already flushed face blushed even harder. He licked his lips rather greedily before swallowing with aroused agitation, pale throat working past its own dryness before breaking into rough-toned pleading:  
“You can go all the way. I'm no virgin needing to be coddled or coaxed into giving you more than this. I swear I can take you without trouble, Anthony.”

Tony kissed the very tip of the Reindeer's nose as tenderly as he could manage, both because he couldn't help himself, and because he knew it would soothe whatever feeling of rejection his answer may be about to wake within Loki.  
“I don't want to fuck you first, Peaches. I want _you_ to fuck _me_ instead, and I can't take you without proper preparation. I'm not talking about a good fingering, you know? I'm talking full on cleansing and the like, so that's out of the question for tonight.”

Loki twitched under him, green eyes growing ever wider and more vulnerable by the second as a thoroughly disbelieving light began to flash across them.  
“You—you'd allow me inside of you? But that's...”

“Yep. I want you, all of you, playing pound-the-prostate inside me. That's exactly what I want, precious, but we'll talk about that tomorrow. Right now I'm as hard as stone and my throat is positively gagging for the best dicking you can give it.”

“Don't be so lewd.” Loki laughed, temporarily distracted by Tony's shameless redirection and the mortal didn't dare to lose another second before wedging himself more firmly between those incredibly long legs and grabbing hold of the waistline of Loki's pants before looking back up expectantly.

“I can't help it, Bluebell. I'm impatient by nature and I've been wanting inside these for a long time. Let me peel them off you, please. I can't wait to get my mouth on you.”

Loki's hips rose in response, bright green eyes softening with the kind of trust Tony was pretty sure only he had ever been gifted with in this sort of situation.  
“Go right ahead then. I can't wait to have your mouth on me, either.”

Tony couldn't help the giggle that escaped him then and he planted a small peck on the bony ridge of his god's hip just a second before he finally dragged Loki's pants down his long legs and off.  
"You’re so gorgeous." He whispered reverently, staring hungrily at the mouthwateringly lovely flesh he'd just uncovered.

"No. I'm not." Loki countered, making him snort loudly and shake his head in disagreement.

"Yes, you are. You are the most gorgeous dude I've ever met. Gosh! Even your cock is gorgeous. That's plain rude of you, you know? It's not fair that mine looks like a deformed, brownish, wiener while yours should be bloody enshrined for being a freaking monument to masculine perfection."

"You're crazy." Loki laughed, relaxing so completely against the mattress that Tony thought he'd have taken far worse insults just to see him this comfortable with having someone breathing on the very tip of his dick.

"True, but you like my kind of crazy, don't you, Buttercup?" He replied, muzzling that squirming crotch with utter gentleness. Loki startled, nervous once again all of a sudden, but he tried valiantly to relax, clearly attempting to convince his fucked-up mind to stop trying to destroy their precious first time.

“That's it, sweetheart. That's it. I'm dying to do this for you. I'm honestly, literally gagging for it, I swear, so you just sink into the mattress and let me get up close and personal with this totem of perfection.” Tony reassured him quietly, running the tip of his nose along the delicate patch of skin that stretched between Loki's slender hip and the musky mess of dark curls that grew in the middle of his groin.

The Smurf gasped ever so shakily before going completely still under him and Tony pressed his face downwards, burying his nose in the most glorious masculine scent he'd ever sniffed while his hungry lips brushed softly against the base of his god's engorged cock:  
“You smell utterly divine, Buttercup. I could sniffle you here forever.”

“Norns, you're so strange... It confuses and bedazzles me almost as much as it frightens me.” Loki confessed breathlessly, running hesitant fingertips through Tony's tangled hair.

“There's nothing to fear here, beautiful. It's just me and my greedy mouth. And you. And your cock. And... this.” Tony said, taking the head of the aforementioned cock between his lips and swirling his tongue around it. Loki hissed in reaction, arching his slender hips minutely upwards before forcing himself to stop and Tony growled, suddenly pissed off with such unnecessary show of restraint, with his lover's undeniable lack of confidence in how bloody welcome he was to fuck his face until his dick fell off with the effort of shoving it down his throat. He smoothed his hands over the Reindeer's hipbones, grabbing them hard enough to bruise and forced the skittish bastard upwards, ramming that glorious rod down his own gullet with enough glee to kill Loki's insecurities once and for all.

“Anth... Anthony, what...?” Loki tried valiantly to scoot backwards. To ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. To control the furious pumping Tony's grabby paws were forcing his hips into, but he failed at each and every one of those tasks because the engineer had absolutely no intention of letting the little idiot worry himself out of the pleasure he was determined to give him.

 _'Come on, come on, stop_ _fighting me_ _and fuck my face_ _like you mean it_ _.'_ Tony thought as loudly as he could, hunkering down as low as possible and relaxing his throat muscles enough to take all of Loki's weeping cock in a single greedy gulp, loving the soft, velvety weight of that hard and heavy prick as it slid across his tongue to hit the back of his throat in the same maddening rhythm Loki's hips had finally settled into.

 _ **'** That's it. That's it, gorgeous. Let go. Let go. Let go!' _He chanted inside his head, holding on for dear life and breathing in heavily through his nose, filling his twitching nostrils with the heady smell of his Reindeer' arousal while the delicious taste of the pre-come that had started to dribble onto his tongue kept the blood boiling in his veins and his dick weeping for release inside the increasingly wet prison of his terribly tight pants.

Loki had begun to tremble, thighs and hips and baby-soft buttocks fluttering back and forth so minutely that at first Tony missed the slight shaking altogether. He smoothed his palms over his Blueberry's hip bones, calloused thumbs tracing small gentle circles into goose-pimpled pale skin while his own sanity unraveled: _'Yeah,_ _shake for me just_ _like this._ _Exactly_ _like this. Let me_ _take you apart and put you back togethe_ _r_ _,_ _baby._ _Let me show you how bloody good sex can be.'_

Loki moaned louder than ever when Tony added just a touch of teeth to his vigorous sucking, worshiping the cock growing heavier and heavier in his mouth with everything he had. He pressed his tongue to every ridge and engorged vein he could feel as he slowly forced himself to relinquish his throat's greedy hold on that glorious manhood, allowing it to glide back towards his swollen lips in order to swirl the very tip of his tongue across the weeping head and push a drop or two of his god's bitter pre-come back into his spurting slit, creating a small wet sound that elicited another raw-toned gasp from his reticent beloved.

 _'More. I want to hear more of those beautiful sounds. I want to make you scream my name, Peaches.'_ He thought, taking him in deep once again and moving his right hand down and inwards, never stopping until he felt the slight fuzz of the Blueberry's heavy bollocks tickle his cupping palm.

“Ah, An... Anthony!” Loki muttered inanely, green eyes widened to capacity as he lifted his dark head off the pillow and stared dazedly down, watching Tony watch him in return as he swallowed him whole, and blushing absolutely crimson in reaction to the smug look so clearly burning in the mortal's light brown gaze.

Tony's free hand wandered upwards, caressing both toned belly and slightly protruding ribs as he allowed Loki's dick to pop out of his mouth for just a second, nosing it delicately aside before trying to wedge his head between the sorcerer's thighs, eager to lick his Reindeer's furry balls into submission.

His crush's mile-long legs spread easily enough, parting to accommodate his every whim without any vacillation whatsoever, only to start trembling in earnest a second later, when their owner's breathing became ragged to the point of gasping pants. An increasing number of satisfyingly tortured groans started making it past Loki's kiss-swollen lips as Tony swirled the flat of his tongue all over those dark-haired, fuzzy balls and the delicate skin that surrounded them before taking first one, and then the other, into the wet cavern of his mouth, suckling on them like a babe.

“Oh!” Loki whispered, becoming more and more undone by the second, and the sound was so very guileless, so full of wonder, that it didn't take a genius of Tony's caliber to realize that his love had never felt pleasure like this.

Tony kissed the inside of Loki's thigh reverently, running greedy paws down and around them until he had his palms firmly planted on his Buttercup's bare buttocks. He began to knead those perfect pale globes in time with the thrusting of his own hips against the mattress and the small smattering of pecks he kept dropping everywhere his lips could reach: on the back of those tasty bollocks and the soft-skinned sacks covering them. On the inside of a gently twitching thigh. On the musky junction between leg and groin. At the base of that hard, oh-so-hard, gorgeous cock.

“Anthony, I'm... I—want—I need... Oh, Norns, please. _Please_.” Loki wheezed incoherently, turning boneless with mounting desire, with surrender, as Tony's fingertips slid on the sweat that had gathered on the skin of his butt, brushing back and forth along his warm, hairy crack in a way that was turning him, literally, to mush.

“What? What do you want, beautiful? What do you need? I promise to give it to you. Anything, Loki. _Everything_. All you've got to do is ask.”

The Smurf tried his best to laugh, but didn't have enough air in his lungs to manage the feat, so he groaned deep in his chest instead, belly tense and legs unconsciously spreading further, offering himself so openly that Tony couldn't ignore his own need to reward such trust immediately and ended up scuttling upwards to plant a flurry of small, open mouthed kisses on the very tip of Loki's cock-head, nipping the leaking slit gently for good measure. The sorcerer's hips thrust frantically upwards, trying desperately to catch his open lips, to enter his mouth once again and Tony laughed with smug delight, catching that desperate dick in his hand before growling directly against the heated skin:  
“Is this what you want, Snowflake? My mouth on your cock, sucking you to completion?”

“Yes. Please, yes. Yo... your mouth, Anthony. I need your glorious mouth.”

Tony had enough time to allow himself the briefest self-satisfied smirk before his own needs urged him on. He closed his hungry lips around the velvety tip of Loki's shaft once more. He was hard enough to hammer nails with his own dick by now, and he sure as hell had every intention of coming inside his pants like a randy teenager in the next couple of seconds, getting off on nothing but the pleasure of watching his god fall apart.

Tony took hold of Loki's delicious man-rod and began pumping the engorged base in time with the playful swirls of his tongue over the tip. Thickening pre-come dripped all over his lips, dribbling down towards his chin, his fist, and the mess of sweaty curls that adorned Loki's groin.  
“You taste so good, baby. So goddamnedly good that I'm gonna keep nibbling you right here until the very end of time.” He promised fervently between one flat-tongued lick and the next, making Loki shiver in reaction and grunt breathy, incoherent 'unghs' that curled around Tony's senses and made his head spin with 100% lust.

It was too much, just... too much. The smell. The taste. The sounds his gorgeous Liesmith made as he began to fall apart to the rhythm of his enthusiastic sucking. Tony whimpered in reaction, humming as he swallowed all of Loki in one single, desperate gulp.

The asgardian let out a small, delicate whine as he froze in blissful agony. His slender back arched elegantly off the mattress and his hands settled blindly atop Tony's bowed head, running trembling, gentle fingertips through his hair as Loki's hips finally lost the battle they'd been waging with his fraying self-control and snapped abruptly upwards, ramming his cock inside Tony's accommodating throat once, twice, before spurting explosively and filling him up with a healthy dose of spunk. Tony swallowed every drop before lifting passion-darkened brown eyes towards his panting god, smiling around the softening shaft trying to slither ever so wetly out of his fuck-bruised lips.

Loki struggled to lift himself off the mattress, trying to curl protectively over him as he tugged Tony's head off his groin by the roots of his hair. Then he not-so-gently dragged the billionaire across both the tangled mess of bed sheets and his own lanky body, in order to embrace him with all the clumsiness of a small toddler trying to hug a big and beloved bear. The sloppy kiss that followed was all teeth and overwhelmed gratitude. It was sated passion and newborn tenderness combining into such a powerful mix of emotion that Tony ended up shooting his load inside his pants, untouched, just as he'd feared he would.

 _'I love you.'_ He thought, closing his brown eyes against the onslaught of it all: the pleasure and the smugness and the tidal wave of affection that was rampaging through him with the power of a supercharged engine.

Loki sagged bonelessly against the mattress once again, dragging Tony atop him. Post-orgasm-weakened long legs spread haphazardly under and around Tony's own, curling protectively about him and enfolding him in an intimate leg-embrace. A gasping, giggling, delighted mouth began peppering tiny little kisses all over his goatee and chin, his nose and the curve of his cheekbone before lowering to muzzle sleepily against his sweaty neck.  
“You have reason to be proud of your oral skills, Anthony.” Loki whispered, making him laugh with amusement.

“And you have reason to be proud of your off-the-chart sex-appeal, Buttercup. I haven't come in my underwear since I was sixteen.”

Loki hummed drowsily, looking content and at peace as he tugged Tony even closer, seeking both further contact and intimacy without actually saying so.  
“You're a closet cuddler, aren't you, babe?” Tony teased him and laughed with light-hearted merriment when the Smurf tried to twitch away from him, huffing adorably out loud:

“I am not!”

“Fine. Fine. I'm the closet cuddler, then. I like having you all soft and sated beside me, so you gotta stay put, Peaches. You can make fun of me for being a soppy romantic all you want. I'm not planning to complain as long as you stay where you are.” Tony cajoled, patting soothingly on a reedy shoulder.

Loki giggled under his breath and was in the process of turning to his side in order to maybe kiss Tony senseless once again when his lazy rolling motion halted abruptly and he froze, staring with horrified anger towards the window, where a couple of over-sized crows had managed to perch themselves over the balcony rail and where peeping creepily at them through the gaps in the open blinds.

Tony looked over his own shoulder, curious gaze focusing on the birds as he wondered why their presence seemed to have such weird effect on his no longer relaxed prince, and ended up almost jumping out of his own bloody skin when his gorgeous asgardian shot out of the bed as if flung out of a bow, right hand extended before his naked body as he sent a nasty blast of magic against the feather balls.  
“Get out of here! Get the hell out of my life! My privacy is no longer yours to invade!” He snarled, seemingly deaf to the startled cackles the disgruntled beasts let out as they dove away from his attacking magic and shot up, towards the sky.

Tony made it to the Smurf's side in time to catch his reeling body as it began to sway backwards, catching him gently in his arms and propping him up against his own anxiously heaving chest before attempting to soothe him:  
“Hey, calm down, Frosty. They were just a bunch of birds. I'll install some spikes out there or something, if they bother you that much. You won't ever see them again. I promise.”

Loki's bark of bitter laughter was so far removed from the rich and warm sound of a mere second ago that Tony's spine had begun crawling with dread by the time his god explained:  
“Those were no ordinary birds. They were Huginn and Muginn, the Allfather's prized crows. They are the king's ultimate spies. And they saw us, Anthony. They _saw_ us! That means Odin saw us, too.”

**TBC**

 


	15. Chapter 15

  ** **Wooing The Trickster. Chapter 15**** ** **.****

 

If there was something that a life miss-spent becoming such a profitable target for the yellow press that at least half the 'papzs' in the world regularly followed him around like the craziest, creepiest and most gossipy shadows anyone could have -while writing article upon article about anything, everything and absolutely _everyone_ Tony cared to 'do' at any given time- had taught him it was that a stalker, any stalker, invariably upped the ante after being caught spying by the object of his obsession for the very first time.

Loki, bless his poor innocent soul when it came to dealing with weird nutters of the stalking kind, was too busy being relieved by the lack of made-in-Asgard 'official' repercussions to their mind-blowing BJ encounter to realize that lack of news didn't necessarily equate to good news in this particular situation. On the contrary, lack of news whenever a stalker was involved almost always meant one thing and one thing only: the bastard had found a better way to hide.

Bearing in mind that Tony happened to be a security expert of the genius billionaire variety, with world-renowned prowess in designing cutting edge technology in offense/defense military gear and tactics, no less, it was only a matter of time before he managed to catch himself one of those bloody birds; snaring it fair and square with the help of his latest -and totally uber-cool- 'toy'. The thing was absolutely huge and had the temper of a badly rattled wild bear, but then Tony supposed he'd have been right mad too, if he'd spent century after century flying around the realms like a feathered cross between James Bond and Mata Hari without encountering anyone with enough balls to make a grab for him, only to end up being imprisoned by some lowly midgardian 'argr' inventor in a cage so cheap that it didn't even have the decency to drip with purple diamonds.

“Cut the crap, Bird-brain, I don't care which one of the two you are, but hear this and hear it well: I've got you now, and I'm not letting you go until either your bastard of an owner grants me an audience or you help me find a way to get that blasted bracelet off Loki's wrist, whichever happens first.”

The crow blinked at him in what looked like genuine, open-beaked, shock for a second or two before cawing so scornfully that Tony would have kissed his own ass in awed reverence to his amazing foresight in predicting such snotty behavior, if he hadn't been much more interested in riling this feathered scumbag to the point of 'magical' retaliation.  
“You can huff and puff all you want, Heckle, but I'm not gonna bother with the good host act, so all your tantrums will fall on deaf ears, capisce? Nobody else is gonna hear you screech either, Babychick, because I happen to have made the cage you're inhabiting right now with my very own hands, you see? And you wanna know the best part? I made it just for you, Sweetheart.”

Contemptuous, beady black eyes stared into his own unblinkingly, bored condescension pouring loud and clear from each and every inch of the creature who was trying its very best not to appear at all frazzled by the news that it was currently standing right in the middle of THE most high tech prison ever build by a 'midgardian', because there was no way in hell that someone had beat him to the punch when it came to making sure his little 'friend' stayed exactly where he wanted it. He was Tony bloody Stark, the former Merchant of Death himself, and he'd been so thoroughly pissed off since this overgrown turkey and its flea-infested evil twin had ruined the sweet memory of his 'first time' with Loki that he'd worked his ass off to make sure they got what they deserved, with bells on.

“You know exactly what that means, don't you, pal?” Tony smiled at the little shit with the kind of cruel smile that would have frozen Rogers all the way down to his uber-pious bollocks, if he'd seen it. The poor bastard still believed in all that crap about how good guys didn't really need to dirty their little hands with the unpleasantness of war, since they were the good guys and all. Tony knew better than most exactly how huge a pile of stinky BS that entire concept actually was, because he'd been on the other side of the trenches, and he knew exactly how fast and how loud anyone would 'sing' when given 'proper' incentives. No soldier alive would bother asking nicely for an enemy's cooperation because they knew they'd get nothing for their trouble save a thick gob of spit sliding down their cheek in the next second. Heroes aren't the only dudes who know how to be tough, after all. And baddies often think they're heroes too, in their dark, twisted, little minds.

The bird stood ramrod straight, subtly angling its enormous head left and right in an effort to check out it's new domain without appearing to do so. Tony was mightily impressed with the sheer balls of the thing. It was trying its very best to appear unfazed, and it probably would have gotten away with it, if Tony hadn't spotted the slight ruffling of its tail feathers as it failed to find a door or hadn't been scanning the flow of data coming into his virtual screens directly from the sensors located on every square inch of that cage like a hawk intent on discovering its desired prey's weak spot before diving in for the kill.  
“Yep. You know exactly what it means. I can see it clear as water in your tiny, creepy, eyes and I'd bet you can see it in mine, too. There's no way out of this cage, Birdie. No way at all. This thing is anti-magic, anti-mega-strong-godly-beast, anti-tantrum-from-hell, and anti-everything else I could have possibly imagined, and trust me, I can imagine plenty of shit when I really, really, try.”

The blasted buzzard cawed as dismissively as any self-respecting feather-ball could possibly caw, and Tony could have sworn it rolled it's glassy eyeballs while smiling evilly at him a second before it played right into his hands and pounded the floor of the cage with one vicious-looking claw, releasing such a powerful blast of golden-colored magic inside the cramped cubicle that the entirety of Tony's cutting edge, Vibranium glass little prison shook as if it was made out of paper. For a second there the usually self-assured engineer honestly believed his 'bird jail' was gonna explode in a giant, six million dollar worth, dusty cloud of utter failure; leaving him to face a closer encounter with a gruesome-death-by-rabid-crow than he ever wanted to have.

But then his tech, his precious, crazy expensive and abso-fucking-lutely glorious tech actually managed to hold its ground against the ancient chicken from hell and Tony whooped so loudly he hurt his own throat and danced a little victorious jive right in front of his peeved guest's gobsmacked face, just because he could.  
“Didn't think 'midgardian' science could hold a candle to your magic mumbo jumbo, eh, Mcduck? Well, now you know better.” Tony laughed at the huffy sort of bird-growl he got for his trouble and decided he had absolutely no reason to curve his smugness for the sake of this beast's sensibilities, since it hadn't given a shit about Loki's own, after all. “If that was your attempt to free yourself, my dear pigeon, let me point out the obvious: you've just failed. Rather epically, I must add. You see, the only way out of there is through me, and I'm not feeling all that inclined to set you free just yet. So I'd say you're fucked, buddy. And not in the fun way.”

The feather ball launched itself against the wall closest to Tony, clawing at it so viciously that the inventor didn't have a single doubt that the nasty thing wouldn't hesitate in goring him to death -and probably beyond it- if he gave it half the chance.  
“Tut, tut, Tweety. That's not very friendly of you, is it?” Tony asked with a smirk, tapping playfully on the glass and feeling the purest form of vindictive satisfaction when the bird glared venomously at him, snapping its beak savagely with a thoroughly outraged caw.

“All preliminary scans of your guest's magical outburst are now complete, Sir.” J.A.R.V.I.S informed him at that moment, not only cutting his entertainment short, but also managing to sound both crisply disapproving and uber efficient at the very same time.

“Don't get your knickers in a twist, Jay. I'm not doing anything so horrible to the little bastard. And its giving me as bad as its getting, in case you haven't noticed.”

“I'm more worried about what it'll 'give you' once its out of that cage, if you manage to rile it any further. That is no ordinary crow, after all.”

Tony's easy, devil-may-care attitude vanished in a flash, leaving him as hard-eyed and tight-lipped as Nick Fury on Valentine's day.  
“True. The beast is a spy. A nasty little spook of the worst kind. One whose actions ruined what would have been a pretty perfect first time for both myself and Loki.”

“Sir...”

“I hate it, Sweet-chip. I just... hate it!  We haven't managed to recover the lighthearted serenity this creature's master stole from us that day. I hate the hunted look that darkens the Reindeer's green eyes whenever he crosses in front of a window nowadays. I hate watching him check out the sky above him every single fucking time he goes outside. But what I hate even more is knowing that, even though he's taken every precaution he can, he'd have never managed to spot this feathered piece of shit in a million fucking years.”

“Young Mr. Odinson is safe and sound. He's still sleeping on the living room's couch, exactly where you left him. Your 'guest' can not currently hurt him.”

Tony laughed, despite himself, relieved that his A.I understood how bloody worried he'd been about what these two flying monkeys had been sent down here to 'do' to Loki, even though he'd never once mentioned his worries out loud. The Bluebell just assumed that daddy dearest had been trying to unnerve him, making it obvious that he'd found a way to get eyes on them, despite Loki's daring act of defiance. Tony, on the other hand, had been a megalomaniac bastard himself for long enough to understand other megalomaniac bastards' thought processes rather well. Odin hadn't sent the beasts to 'spy' on his son just to prove a point. Why would he, when the only thing he needed to do in order to get as much freshly-baked info on his youngest kid as he wanted was to call his precious Thor back to Asgard and ask him, point blank, how Loki was doing?  No. Daddy dearest hadn't sent his feathered minions to get a visual on Frosty. He'd sent them to do what none of his macho warriors had managed so far: he'd sent his crows to drag the Trickster 'home'. Tony was so sure of it that he'd been unable to sleep more than three hours at a stretch in the last two fucking weeks. He'd become so paranoid that he'd devised an entire range of new tech just to help him keep his precious Blueberry exactly where the god wanted to be. He could now probably track him all the way to hell and back, if he needed to. And he'd worked his ass off on a brand new suit that could -at least in theory- allow him to get up there and kick alien ass left and right, if any of those viking assholes ever managed to get their dirty paws on the Reindeer and made a run for it.

“What about the little shit's evil twin?  That one is still out there, Jay. It could pounce on sex-on-legs at any given time, nab him before I manage to get my suit on. I don't know what I'd do if they take Loki by force. I don't think I can survive the horror of knowing I failed him so completely.”

“But you haven't failed him, Sir. Young Mr. Odinson is just a lift ride away. He's right here, in the tower, and we both know that every inch square within a hundred miles of the building's air space is being carefully monitored as we speak. I doubt that even a half-starved mosquito could get past the new security system without raising a billion alarms. Your beloved is safer than England's own crown jewels right now, and you know it.”

“Call me a paranoid mother hen all you want, Awesome-O, but don't expect me to rest on my laurels until I've put the fear of Stark on this flying, living, breathing, feather duster and its warrior pals from hell. I wouldn't mind a shot at the Big Bad, himself, if we are talking ideal here, but we'll have to start somewhere and this flea-bag is the best we've got for now.”

The crow huffed with outrage and banged its beak viciously on the cage's wall. Tony stared down at it without bothering to hide how readily he'd chop it into tiny, little, pieces and bake it for dinner if it gave him a single excuse to do so, and ended up chuckling darkly when the beast took a cautious step backwards, looking thoroughly intimidated for the first time since Tony had trapped him.  
“Ah…  So not only are you cleverer than you look, but you also understand every word out of my mouth and every expression on my face, don't you, Bird-brain?  Where is your friend, then?  When is the Cyclops planning to send the meaner warriors down here?  He'll have to get rid of Thor first, won't he?  Because we all know that hell will definitely freeze over before Big, Blonde and Thunderous allows a single royal guard to disregard Loki's station long enough to take him home against his will.”

The crow's feathers ruffled with enough disdain to make Tony shake his head, but the beast's lack of anxious twitching was all he needed to confirm that its partner in crime must be safe and sound back home. Probably already informing the Allfather of who, exactly, had been bold enough to make a grab for his missing minion, and carrying orders to and fro to deploy whatever contingency plan they had devised in case the abduction-by-magic-bird failed as epically as it had.  
“If you think your master has the smallest intention of saving you then you aren't as clever as I first thought you were, Tweets. Look at Frosty, feather ball, why don't you?  That old bastard loves his younger kid enough to put us all through the wringer just because I have a slightly unsavory reputation, and yet he's never -not once- bothered to come down here to try and sort things out. What are the chances he'll do for you what he hasn't done for Loki, eh?”

The bird had the actual balls to turn its back on him, giving him the kind of cold shoulder that seasoned marines wouldn't dare to give him even after all this time of being one of the 'good' guys. Tony was reluctantly impressed. And frustrated. And determined to put the most giant fucking spanner he could get his oil-stained paws on in these assholes' let's-grab-ourselves-a-Reindeer plans.  
“Oh, I see… Odin must have already told you that he'll send something else to get you all home, if you failed to retrieve Loki. You, guys, were his 'subtle' plan, weren't you?  And you think he's gonna rainbow-bridge something bigger and meaner down here as soon as it can be arranged, is that it?  He's throwing his worst at me next, yeah?  Something that will teach me a lesson.”

The crow's massive black head cocked to the side even as it cooed gleefully, clearly convinced that he'd managed to intimidate the crazy 'midgardian' bastard who held it prisoner. Tony kind of liked the bloody bird, even if it was so dammed smug that he couldn't wait to hit it with the sort of punch he hoped would not only shut it up with shock, but also serve as the pretty strong message Tony needed to ram down the gullet of the creature's one-eyed master: This was his turf and this was his godfriend. NOBODY was gonna get hold of Loki on Tony's watch. Not even the king of Asgard.

“Do you know why it took me so long to build your cage, Mcduck?  I mean, I realize you know nothing about this planet's construction schedules and, to be honest, two miserable weeks to get this kind of work of art done is like supersonic speed down here for anybody else, but then…  I'm not just anyone, Birddie, I'm Anthony Edward Stark, you know?  And down here that means I'm the Living, Breathing, Fucking GOD of Building Stuff, so…  not to boast or anything, but I could have wrapped this pretty box up in a bow and all within twelve hours of your first visit, if I just wanted to trap you. Or kill you. And boy, you've got no idea of how dammed tempted I was to go for that. But then I realized that sending you home in a tagged bag wasn't going to help Loki in the long term, so I settled on a different plan altogether. One I like much better because I'm pretty darned sure you're gonna hate it.”

The beast became totally rigid from tail feathers to inky head and Tony had the pleasure of watching it shake slightly as the truth sank in its brain. Its slow turn around towards him made the crow look like a soldier about to face its executioner.  
“Loki said that you and your twin are more than just pets. He said you're some sort of creepy extension of the old Cyclops himself. That, in order to create the perfect little spies, the old-man 'connected' his own consciousness to yours, allowing you to know some of the stuff he knows. That's why you understand me, isn't it?  You're using your master's knowledge of the translate-all-languages thingy he uses to communicate with others. In short, you allowed the king of Asgard to mess with your head and in exchange he gave you some of his knowledge, some of his magic.  
“Now that obviously doesn't mean the same to you as it does to me, because I can see by the look of befuddled confusion on your face that you're kind of not getting why I'm so damned grateful that you, guys, have that particular set up, so let me explain it to you in the simplest terms possible: _y_ _ou_ , my dear feather duster, and the little magic trick you just pulled to get out of that cage, are the key I'm gonna use to map what your master's magic looks like when he is casting an unlocking spell and, once I've done that, I'm gonna copy that sequence and use it to crack open the lock on the Reindeer's evil shackle. But I'm not planning to stop there, oh no. I'm going to use all this data to learn everything there is to know about Odin's particular brand of magic, and I swear on my precious science that I'm not gonna rest until I've found a way to make sure that it'll never, ever again, manage to affect Loki.”

Shocked beady eyes stared at him as if he'd gone off his rocker and that vicious-looking beak hung open in thunderstruck appraisal of what the crow clearly thought to be a raving lunatic. Tony grinned from ear to ear and rubbed his hands almost maniacally, praying to every scientist ever born to back him up on this one, because if there was ever a time for their craft to expose some decrepit old fart's claim to being a bona fide god for the huge fucking lie it had to be then that time had finally arrived, and he had every intention of being the scientist in charge of dethroning this particular deity. Losing this battle of wits wasn't on the cards at all.

“I take it the scanning is all done by now. Isn't it, Jay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you've run the comparison between Frosty's own magic and his dad's?”

“The signature of their power is not a match, Sir. They are as different from one another as two sets of fingerprints.”

Tony could have wept with joy at the news. He would have done it, too, if he hadn't had a pretty riveted bird to cower into submission.  
“Excellent, Sweet Cables. Now I want you to run both Odin's and Loki's data through one of our copies of the Buttercup's bracelet, try to separate both signals, if at all possible. Isolate anything that doesn't look like either and then hit the Allfather's side of the Reindeer's trinket with an exact copy of the spell our feathered friend so generously provided us with. Let's show Bird-brain here how we, 'midgardians', do 'magic'.”

“Certainly, Sir. The master copy of the selected data will be fully operational in eleven minutes and thirty seven seconds.”

“Excellent, Budd. Give me a five second heads up when you're ready.” Tony grinned from ear to ear, despite the spine-crawling terror that had seized him out of nowhere. His suddenly twitchy hand drummed an uneven staccato across the messy surface of his work table until a wayward knuckle hit the screen of his personal tablet, bringing to life the feed from the camera closest to Loki. Anxious amber-colored eyes drank in the lovely image of the slumbering Liesmith and Tony's heart thudded painfully as he attempted to trace the contours of his god's slender figure with a trembling fingertip.

“You will be safe. I'm going to set you free, gorgeous. And then I'm gonna help you find a way to live your life in your own terms.”

A loud thud coming from the cage startled Tony out of his moody thoughts and he lifted narrowed eyes to glare at the bloody crow. The bird wasn't even looking at him, though. It was literally plastered against the closest wall to Tony's desk, vicious claw so desperately extended towards the tablet in Tony's hand that the gesture looked way too much like longing adoration for the playboy's comfort.  
“You love him too… Or is it your master who is looking at him right through you?  Does Odin really see what you see, bird?  Would he care to see his son safe and sound, sleeping in peace far from him?”

The crow's head tilted just so, beady black eyes zeroing on him with such 'human' intensity replacing the mindless animal pride the bird had shown him so far that Tony knew without a single shred of doubt that the Allfather himself was right there, gazing at him from within the very eyes of his magical 'pet':  
“Here, take a good look at him, and then find a way to twist what you're seeing with your own dammed eyes, Your Highness. Go on, look at your son sleeping so trustingly on _my_ couch and try to sell yourself the whopper that he has no place by my side, I dare you!”

“Five seconds, Sir.”

Tony inhaled sharply, distracted from his tirade by J.A.R.V.I.S' intervention and turned his back on the crow, pulling the tablet's screen against his chest for good measure.  
“OK, then, Awesome-O. Let's get this ball rolling: Five. Four. Three. Two. Go!”

The modified laser beam he'd set up on a rotating frame right above the first replica of Loki's bracelet emitted a bright pulse of golden energy that literally pulverized the lock, the cuff and the fake jelly arm both were attached to. Tony stumbled forwards, forcing himself to examine the damage while mumbling under his breath that it was alright. This was NOT his Bluebell's arm, and he wasn't letting this 'key' anywhere near the Smurf until he was dammed sure the magic would affect the cuff's lock and the cuff's lock only.

“The good news is that the 'magic' definitely affected the shackle, Sir.”

Tony stared at the mess of orange jelly and melted gold that was currently occupying the first testing receptacle he'd set up with somber eyes. He kept frantically reminding himself that he wasn't really looking at the gruesome remains of Loki's own arm, but the tightness in his chest and the dryness in his throat were unmistakable signs that his stern self-pep-talk wasn't working in the slightest.  
“You mean it decimated not only the lock but everything that surrounded it too, don't you, Jeeves?”

“As first times go it wasn't among your worst, if I may say so myself.”

“But I'm not playing for shits and giggles, Sweet-chip. That could have been Loki's arm. Shit. It could have been his whole body.”

“Sir...”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity Fuck. This is hopeless!”

“It's the only plan we've got. And the science is sound. You've never been the kind of man who gives up on the first try.”

“Loki's safety is NOT a game, Jay, and we both know that half my science is built on pure, unadulterated, BS and a reckless man's wild dreams. I don' mind gambling with my own hide, but I can not put _him_ at risk. I can _not.”_

“Where does that leave us, then?  He is already at risk. His ability to self-heal is deteriorating by the week, his magic has begun to change and his basic needs are aligning with those of the captain or the Hulk. He sleeps more often, eats more regularly and his body is reacting to physical integrity cues more like a superhuman's than a God's. The bracelet is affecting his health and you know it, just as you know that he's trying to hide it, Sir. Despite young Mr. Odinson's claims to the contrary the Allfather's punishment does _not_ involve only pain.”

“I know. I _know_. I fucking KNOW all that. You don't have to keep reminding me, OK?” Tony growled, whirling around in frustration, right hand cradling the tablet that held Loki's image against his pounding heart while his left one jerked upwards to pull his hair out in a string of vicious tugs that didn't do a bloody thing to calm his fraying nerves.

His gaze fell upon the crow, frustrated amber tangled with devastated blackness in a battle that he'd never thought he'd win. The bird's unblinking stare lowered towards his tightly held tablet, looking at it so intently that Tony began to entertain the fanciful notion that the beast could see Loki's slumbering form right through the sleek metal case that protected the device.  
“That spell is killing him, and you know it. It might not happen today or even tomorrow. Hell, it might not happen in my lifetime, judging by the data I've collected so far, but the Reindeer is gonna die all the same if you don't help me undo the damage your fucking manacle is inflicting. Are you really cool with offing your own kid over a 'temporary' affair with a flawed 'midgardian'?  Come on, man, get your head out of your own ass. How can a three decade mistake, tops, be that big a deal for a dude who should live thousands of years?  You'll lose Loki altogether if you keep opposing his relationship with me, but you'll get him back, safe and sound, once I start pushing daisies, if you pull a one-eighty right about now.”

The bird's proud stance seemed to crumble as it flattened it's dark head against the wall of the cage. Its inky-black gaze turned obsidian bright with the weight of the thousand regrets it could not voice. Razor-sharp claws scrapped across the glass, pulling from it a god-awful screech that made every single hair in Tony's body stand on end.  
“You can't help me, can you?  Are you even here, inside this minion of yours, or am I just losing my mind?  How can you not set him free, if you're here, for goodness sake?  Aren't you supposed to be fucking all-powerful and so on?”

“Sir, your 'guest' is currently emitting some sort of raw energy. It is invisible to your eye, but every sensor on the cage's frame is picking up the same signal.”

“WTF?  Scan it, Jay. Scan it right now!  Compare it to everything 'magical' we already have and make a master copy of it, if it looks wildly different.” He barked, dropping his tablet on the desk before taking a couple of steps towards the cage, and placing white-knuckled hands against the clear glass wall in an effort to feel what his eyes couldn't see. He'd sort of expected whatever magic was being performed inside to zap the glass under his palms as soon as he touched it or something at least mildly unpleasant, but he couldn't feel a single thing besides the cool Vibranium mesh he had created. The crow looked right at him, fierce black eyes glaring with so much frustrated rage and heartbreaking impotence that he felt all that emotion touch his very heart with ghostly fingertips.  
“You are too far away, aren't you, Allfather?  You can't use this bird of yours to help me help Loki because the beast is just that: a beast. You sent it here to drag your son back home. Pre-programmed its claws with a spell that would have rendered Loki unable to escape them, but other than the duty it was commanded to perform your flying monkey can only stare, caw and defend itself when cornered...”

“The foreign energy has begun to dissipate from the cage, Sir. I've scanned and compared it to everything we have in our 'magical' database and the only thing that's even remotely similar is Dr. Strange's telepathic spell.”

Tony shook his head left and right, feeling suddenly lightheaded, and he stumbled a couple of steps backwards until the back of his knees hit the hard edge of his wheelie chair.  
“So that wasn't some previously unheard of awesome insight power of mine coming to the fore, then. It was the old fart's way of telling me that he can't help. Not because he doesn't want to, mind, but because he's too far away. Shit. That leaves just the two of us to clean up daddy's mess, Jeeves.”

“You could always try to convince young Mr. Odinson to go home with his brother for a day or so. Both our guest's current behavior and the fact that the Allfather has never stopped sending down guards to 'invite' his son back to Asgard, lead me to believe that there is at least a 99.76% chance that the king is actively trying to remove the Trickster's cuff.”

“The Cyclops' intentions are irrelevant here, Mighty-cables. The Reindeer doesn't _want_ to go home and I'm not planning to force him. He's gone through a lot of trouble to launch this rebellion of his. Standing up to his father when it comes to us means a lot to Loki and I'm not gonna betray him by suggesting he gives it up, just because that will solve our problems a hell of a lot faster. We'll have to find a way to help him win without forcing him to surrender. We can not let him lose, Jay. Nothing of mine ever loses, OK?”

“Of course not, Sir. Losing is for losers, and Justin Hammer. Tony Stark is the Living, Breathing, Fucking GOD of Building Stuff, after all.”

Tony laughed under his breath, feeling suddenly a lot more confident about his chances of achieving the nearly impossible than he was a mere second ago.  
“Run that test again at 10% of the initial power and let's increase the juice a further 10% with every subsequent run. I have a feeling the bird was too pissed off when he tried to open the cage, so he kind of… overfed… the spell.”

“10% it is, then, Sir.” J.A.R.V.I.S said before firing up the laser beam at the second replica of Loki's golden bracelet. Tony couldn't bear to look at the mock up, so he picked up his tablet once again and stared at his slumbering godfriend with ever-growing adoration, tracing the tiny, pale features of Loki's image with his calloused fingertips.

“The lock shows no signs of damage at 10% power, Sir.”

“Keep going until you get something solid, Jay. I don't think I can stomach watching another of those fake arms blow up, so just give me a heads up me when you hit the danger threshold and I'll take it from there.”

Loki shifted at that moment in the couch two floors away. Even asleep he curled his wounded arm way too carefully against his jumper-covered belly as he tucked his long legs against the couch's armrest and buried his gorgeous face in a velvety green cushion. Tony's breath caught in his chest as he sat on his wheelie chair and gazed quietly into the screen, wishing he could be up there with every cell in his body. He wanted to spoon his Bluebell as he dozed the evening away, so innocently unaware that Tony knew a lot more than he wanted him to know. That Tony was way too overprotective to miss the little signs everyone else seemed to have always missed when it came to Loki because there was absolutely nothing in this world, or any other, more important to Anthony Edward Stark than the Liesmith of Asgard.  
“You're so used to looking after yourself that you didn't even think to let me know how bad your dad's punishment really is, eh, sweetheart?  I'd bet you're not keeping me in the dark to be mean. You're just trying to protect me, aren't you?  You're convinced I can't help you and whatever is gonna happen will take place after I'm gone, so you're keeping quiet about it. The thing is… I _see_ _you_ , babe. I see you like nobody else in your life has ever bothered to see you, and that means that your smoke and mirror tricks are just that: smoke and mirrors.  
“I shouldn't have stopped researching that bloody bracelet when you pulled your 'I want to be a warrior' stunt. I shouldn't have tried to settle for your rebellion when what you deserve is full, unfettered, freedom. I don't care that I'd probably be long gone by the time things come to a head. You're taking this risk for _me_ and that's your choice, I accept that. But now I'm choosing to save you, gorgeous, and that… _that's_ the one goal I'll achieve, if it's the last thing I do.”

 

**TBC**

 


	16. Chapter 16

****Wooing The Trickster. Chapter 16.**** ****  
** **

Tony had always liked them gorgeous, brainy and kind of sassy. He'd have readily acknowledged to anyone who asked him that the challenging ones were a plus, and that anyone with that certain air of dangerous unpredictability about them that often made lesser men run for the hills in under six seconds flat would have -once upon a time- gotten inside his pants, no questions asked.

Loki was definitely gorgeous and brainy. He could be sassy enough when the mood struck him, too. He'd been challenging to the point of being an absolute-pain-in-Tony's-glorious-ass before he'd bothered to deliver that all important 'I want effort, OK?' golden nugget of wisdom that had finally allowed him to understand what made the trickster god tick. And, although Tony had already known that Sexy-long-legs could be dangerous and unpredictable when cornered, too, he'd never once realized that Loki could be all of the above at once in heaps so mindbogglingly humongous that not even an earnest 'believer' like himself would be properly prepared to deal with that amount of shit in one go.

In the interest of fairness, Tony was willing to acknowledge that he wouldn't have felt quite so overwhelmed by the Blueberry's inconvenient decision to become an uncooperative bastard all of a sudden, if his newly developed penchant for overprotecting his heavenly one-and-only wasn't currently clashing in the worst possible way with said one-and-only's uber-obnoxious, bloody mindedness.

He was tired. He was worried. He hadn't had coffee since yesterday afternoon and he'd just had his feverishly raunchy, inconveniently groin-tightening and desperately groan-inducing XXX-rated fantasies of exactly how enthusiastically his god would repay both his incredible genius and extra-committed commitment to getting rid of that dammed bracelet with a properly grateful, my-hero-induced, princely swoon -and subsequent romp- dashed in the most bewildering way.

He'd expected dazzled astonishment, amazed delight, maybe even a relieved tear or two, but he'd gotten a thoroughly horrified gasp and his prince's swift retreat to the other side of the room instead. The worst thing of all was that he had abso-fuckin-lutely no idea of why in the bloody hell his Sweet-pea was refusing to so much as show him his wrist, let alone allow him to get his paws on that evil golden cuff for long enough to blast its lock into a giant pile of dust once and for all.

“I realize you were convinced that I wouldn't be able to do something like this, but I was, Buttercup. Science works the same way everywhere, you know? You may call our theorems by weird, alien, names -and have discovered a hell of a lot more than we've managed so far- but the basics are still the same. Science is Science in here. In Asgard. In Every-fucking-where, OK?”

“That's not what I...”

“This 'key' works, Reindeer. I swear to you that it does. I wouldn't have dared to show it to you if I wasn't at least 500% certain that it's safe. Your safety is the one thing I'll never gamble on. My tech won't hurt you, Loki.”

“I don't doubt that for a second. I'm certain your device will work as perfectly as everything else you've ever designed, Anthony. That is why you must destroy it before anyone in Asgard becomes aware of its existence.”

“Destroy it? No, babe! NO. No way, Jose. No, raised to the seventh power. And a million fucking times NO on top of that! This thing can cut through the magic on that lock, Peaches. One single beam from this baby and your shackle will crack open like a feeble walnut shell, I promise. Your arm will burn no more. You won't be in pain all the fucking time and your body will finally be able to put all its energy into healing properly. You'll regain your...”

“Shush. Just… shush, Anthony. Please.” Loki begged, looking right at him with those breathtakingly bright green eyes of his softened by so much pride and so much affection, by so much pure and simple gratitude, that Tony became instantly tongue-tied. Unable to make his point any further. Unable to look away or say or _do_ anything that might shatter their bloody brilliant instant of communion. Rob him of Loki's hard-enough-to-earn loving respect forever.

Loki had no such qualms, though, and he came close enough to cradle Tony's stubbled cheek between his lily-white hands in the next second, brushing the pad of his thumb across Tony's chapped bottom lip with enough gentleness to make the -former- playboy's breath hitch.  
“It is not your place to save me from my battle, beloved. Your assistance in this matter is not required.”

Tony's wildly pounding heart would have broken right there and then if he hadn't already spent the last two years of his life fighting this maddening bastard's weird ideas of how a relationship should start/work with everything that he had. He knew Loki could be self-sufficient to the point of outright stupidity, but he also knew that the Smurf hadn't developed such misguided -and frankly bloody dangerous- sense of independence out of pride alone, but out of insecurity. His Buttercup was self-reliant because he _had_ to be. He'd become the incredible one-man-show he currently was because he'd been taught to be exactly that. He was drawing on past experience, and coming to the wrong conclusions, because no one he'd ever loved had, so far, managed to be there for him when the chips came down, and he had the gall to think Tony couldn't do better.

“That's kind of… wildly inaccurate, Sweetheart.” Tony finally muttered, planting a small kiss on the pad of Loki's thumb as it swept across his bottom lip, before deciding to go for broke and deliver his own nugget of wisdom with all the gentleness he was beginning to realize he'd never used on anybody else because he'd been saving it all for this gorgeous -and totally messed up- dude. “You're my squeeze, you see? My better half. My Lookie Pookie. That means I have every right in the world to save you from _all_ your battles, if I want to. And I do. I want to save you from this cuff more than I want my next breath, Reindeer.”

“Don't say that. Don't you ever say that. I could survive without breath, Anthony, but you...  _Y_ _ou._ Wouldn't.”

“Hey! Don't you dare throw the ugly -and frankly underhanded- you're-a-puny-mortal spanner into my grand speech, do you hear me? Don't you dare trying to make this entire thing about _me_ , either. I'm not the one enduring torture here. I'm the one hell-bent on ending it, capisce?”

“You're too brave for your own good, 'Man Of Iron.' But you forget that all the metal in the world won't help you survive a single jab from Gungnir. You won't be allowed to defy the Allfather in so blatant a way without experiencing his wrath, and his sacred spear will rip your midgardian shell to shreds. Gungnir is always deadly, and it never misses its mark. I will not lose you so needlessly, Anthony. I will not lose you today.”

Tony's already churning gut wriggled left and right unhappily upon hearing the Blueberry's argument. He hadn't 'seen' that one coming, and he couldn't understand why. He should have known Loki would try to protect him, shield him from earning himself a not-so-welcome heap of the same sort of made-in-Asgard 'repercussions' that he, himself, was facing. Oh, shit… he'd have to come clean about the bird now. And about his new suit. He'd have to let the Smurf take a peep at the ugly truth and see how Loki coped with the idea that he'd placed his wary heart in the hands of the kind of paranoid nutter who'd set the nine realms on fire to protect him without a single qualm. And Tony would do it, too. For real. He'd already outlined a 3-phase plan for it and everything. With little, yellow diagrams and all.

_'Oh, Shit. Oh. Shit. OH, SHIT! Is there any chance_ _that_ _he'd take my reassurances on faith alone? I've got to try it_ _at least_ _. Because it_ _'_ _s way too soon_ _to let him_ _realize just how_ _dammed far I'd go for him. Knowing that will freak him out. Hell,_ _knowing that_ _freaks ME out.'_  
“That's not gonna happen, Buttercup. You won't lose me over this. I promise.”

“Promising such thing is not within your power. Do not force me to destroy that which you have created against your own will, Anthony. Because I will do it. And then you'll hate me for it.” Loki's hands began to tremble where they rested against Tony's cheeks and the engineer raised his grease-coated paws to cover them reassuringly, twining their fingers together against his bristly jawbone.

_'Fuck. No luck. There's nothing for it. I'll have to allow the proverbial crap to hit the fan and take it from there. On three, then. One. Two. Three:'_  
“I've got one of your dad's crows stashed down in my lab, Lokes.”

The Reindeer blinked at him with utter incomprehension at first, clearly unable to either process the sheer weirdness of his words, or believe they meant exactly what they said. Then pure horror flashed across those beloved green eyes and they began to widen and widen, filling with the kind of incredulous terror that Tony would have given a great deal indeed never to see in such setting.  
“Yo-you've got one of-Have you gone daft? When did you even- _H_ _ow_ did you manage to…? Oh, dear Norns, the king will rip your heart out.” Loki stuttered frantically, gorgeous accent tainted by growing panic, and Tony had to take a couple of hasty steps forwards in order to keep them entangled. He refused to let go of those suddenly ice-cold hands; doing his very best to hinder Loki's chances of pulling that annoying vanishing trick of his successfully, should he decide to try it.

“No. He won't, I swear. Your dad helped me, babe. We talked. I couldn't figure out why the fuck my tech wasn't working as it should. The science was sound, you see? I had every bit of information I needed right there, at my fingertips, and still the stupid thing wouldn't work. Then the Cyclops did that telepathic trick of his and I 'saw' how his shackle works in my mind.”

“Huginn, you've caught Huginn.”

Tony frowned, suddenly unable to follow his godfriend's side of the conversation.  
“Hu-what, gorgeous?”

“Huginn. He's the sacred raven who carries within the king of Asgard's 'thoughts', Anthony.” Loki whispered, looking so worryingly pale that Tony genuinely believed he was a single panicked breath away from fainting. He started shivering from head to foot, green eyes bruised with such terrible distress that Tony swore under his breath, letting go of those ice-cold hands long enough to grab Loki by the shoulders, trying to pull him into a hug. The idiot resisted him, though. Fighting both his obvious need to be comforted and Tony's fervent desire to cuddle him to death.

“That's kind of irrelevant, Sweetheart.”

“ _Irrelevant_? You have illegally _imprisoned_ the very incarnation of the king of Asgard's thoughts, and you believe that to be IRRELEVANT? ”

“Fine! Not irrelevant, then. Just… not as pertinent to our discussion as the fact that-”

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT YOU'VE DONE, YOU, WITLESS, FOOLHARDY, _MORTAL_?”

“Loki...”

“Do not 'Loki' me, Anthony!”

“Listen to me, please. It's not as bad as you think. I'm not gonna end up in some alien prison hole over this, OK? Didn't you hear what I said? I've talked to your father. He's cool about this. He really, really, digs me nowadays. Come on, babe, don't look at me like that, I promise you it's true. Your dad helped me, Loki. He wants that cuff off you as badly as I do, and he was willing to push all the doom and gloom I-shall-punish-you-for-stealing-my-bird-shit aside in order to shut down the magical punishment as soon as possible. I would have gotten my 'key' right in the end, of course, but I wouldn't have done it this quickly if _he_ hadn't butted in.”

“I don't understand. W-when… _How_ did you manage to 'talk' with the king of Asgard?”

“Through his bird, Pumpkin. We 'talked' through his bird.” Tony answered him immediately and used the distraction _that_ giant shock had caused to grab hold of Loki's elbow, steering him towards the closest couch before he crumbled altogether.

“Why would the Allfather bother to contact you thus? Inter-realm telepathic spells are incredibly draining. Relinquishing that amount of power in a single burst would have left the king unspeakably weakened. There is no possible justification for... ”

“Of course there is: you, babe. There is _you._ When are you going towake up and face the indisputable fact that your dad may be the universe's biggest idiot, but he loves you like an overprotective mama bear loves her tiniest, littlest, cub?”

“Pft!”

“He does! He loves you so much that he 'deigned' to help a lowly 'midgardian' perfect the only 'way out' he thought you'd accept. He could have sat there and watched me fail through his Hug-what's-it-name eyes, but he didn't. He willingly sacrificed his one chance to play the hero where you're concerned because he'd rather get you out of the cuff's evil clutches as soon as godly possible than… Hold on. Is 'godly possible' even a 'thing', Peaches?”

“Anthony...”

“Hush! I know what you're gonna say, but you're wrong, babe. So wrong. Odin is not that bad. He's not ideal, don't get me wrong, but he's better than Howard by about a million miles times infinity. Turns out the lock on your cuff wasn't closed only by magic, Lokes. The Allfather was touching your wrist when he put it on, you see? That's what stumped my science. No unlocking spell by itself would have cracked that lock open. The right amount of pressure must accompany the magic and it isn't just the pressure alone, either. The feeling that powered the initial touch must be present, too. A furious tug wouldn't have worked. Neither would have a warning, commanding, squeeze. It has to be a loving touch, Loki. The magic will only work when combined with a loving touch.”  
  
The Reindeer gasped the most pained little gasp Tony had ever heard him utter and dropped blindly onto the couch, looking both totally shell-shocked and heartbreakingly fragile. One of those utterly terrible silences followed, the kind you want to break because you know that whatever isn't being said is hurting your companion like a malevolent bitch bent on extracting revenge, but you simply have no idea of how to stop it. Or honestly believe that even breathing too loudly will destroy your sweetheart's unraveling composure altogether. Or simply have no trust in your own ability to make anything better. _'Or all of the above at the same_ _fucking_ _time,_ _of course._ _'_ Tony thought bitterly, dropping on the couch beside Loki and holding onto one of his pale hands for dear life, waiting on tenterhooks for a word, any word, out of the Reindeer's mouth.

“There was nothing loving about the way Fath-Odin held my wrist when he closed the shackle around it, Anthony. Do not forget I was there. And I know him like you don't.” Loki finally whispered in the kind of small and wounded tone that dug painful little hooks into Tony's innards and used them to gore him from the inside out.

“I'd never thought I'd feel like a bloody expert about this when compared to someone else, but… you're utter shit at recognizing love, you know? And your dad is utter shit at showing it too, just like Thor. Odin was mad and frustrated and worried sick about you when he messed with your magic, but that's about it, Buttercup. He did it all out of love. He was trying to protect you. That sort of protectiveness can't be faked and it was right there, in his touch. I 'saw' it all through the bird. That's how I figured things out.”

“I don't believe you.” Loki muttered after a long pause, looking barely composed but so stubborn about it that Tony just _knew_ he'd get nowhere with him unless he used heavy artillery.

“You'll have to, eventually. Because you may be as crazy as fuck when you want to be, but you're also fair and generous to a fault with those who put 'effort.'”

Loki reared backwards, green eyes wide and thin lips curved in a trembling, unhappy line.  
“Don't you dare meddle here, Anthony. This is none of your concern.”

“The hell it isn't! This shitty war you've got going with the two big wigs of Asgard is tearing you apart, Loki. It's stopping you from going back up there to hang out with your mom. This is fucking breaking ALL of you. Don't you understand? You'll never be truly happy, unless they are in your life because you are not like me at all. Hell, your dad is not like Howard, either. He's… He _loves_ you, to start with. I'd bet my last dollar that he's always, always, loved you.”

“Anthony, don't...”

“He must be fucked up in the head something fierce to have botched his relationship with you so badly, but that's neither here nor there. The important thing is that whatever he did in the past he didn't do it to hurt you. He just doesn't get you like he gets Thor.”

“That doesn't excuse...”

“Of course it doesn't. But that's not enough to condemn him, either. I know he's failed you again and again, but… think about it, babe, please: if this-if throwing a hissy fit over our being together, not because I'm mortal, mind, but because I've got the kind of slutty reputation he doesn't want near you isn't caring; if sticking that bracelet on your wrist just to break us apart because he honestly believed that doing _that_ would hurt you less in the long run doesn't count; if the relentless stream of warriors coming down here to drag you 'home' every day without fail since you unleashed the cuff's magic isn't it, either; if letting go of his prejudices. Of his kingly, fucking pride, to help _me_ help _you,_ and casting that 'draining' mind spell across half the dammed universe, just to make sure I got things right, isn't 'effort', then I don't know what is, Peaches.”

His words seemed to have turned Loki into stone. He didn't argue, screamed or even eyed him furiously. Hell, he wasn't even blinking and, for a truly frightening second, Tony was positively certain that he'd given his love a stroke. Then a pale, elegant hand sought out his own. Deft fingers tangled with his, as if seeking reassurance, and Tony couldn't hold himself back a single second longer. He grabbed those fingers and _pulled_ , catching his godfriend off-guard and managing to make him topple against his own heaving chest. His arms opened to entrap, to embrace, to fucking _comfort_ the living daylights out of his distressed Reindeer, and he hadn't realized how on edge he'd been at the very idea that Loki might reject his first post-fight tender overture, until he felt the Blueberry sigh and melt against him.

“You don't know when to give up, do you, Anthony?” Loki questioned in a tone that was neither reproach nor encouragement and Tony couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips at the very notion of leaving a battle unfought where his god's happiness was concerned. His lips landed atop the Reindeer's head and he placed an uncomfortably reverent kiss upon silk-soft hair, carding work-calloused fingers through those beautiful dark locks.

“Does that mean you'll let me open the cuff? I can't wait to watch it fall at my feet. I might give it a good kick or two once its there, you know? Just because I Hate it with an extra large H.”

Loki shifted out of his arms then, long back straightening up with the kind of tense rigidity that Tony was learning to dread, because it almost always preceded one of his Pumpkin's inconveniently timed bouts of bloody-mindedness.

“Where is he?” Loki asked, confusing him so much that he straightened up too and frowned thunderously into dishearteningly determined eyes.

“He? Who the hell is 'he'? You better not be trying to pull some cheap distraction trick out of your ass just to avoid giving me that bony wrist of yours, Loki, or I'm gonna...”

“Huginn. Where is Huginn?”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing his companion suspiciously.  
“Why do you care? He can't touch you, that's for sure. You're perfectly safe here. Now will you finally let me get my paws on that stupid bracelet or not?”

“I want to see him first.”

“Why, for fuck's sake?“ Tony growled with frustration, lifting his hands to his hair and pulling giant chunks of it out by the roots, just to avoid wrapping them around his annoying Reindeer's neck instead. “Can't we deal with the urgent bird-visit _after_ you're free, Lokes? I'll take you down there myself. I even promise to shut up and let you get on with the weirdness, if it turns out that you are into unspeakable perversions of the avian variety, as long as we deal with the shackle first.”

“We can't. It need to speak with Huginn first. I must, Anthony, or I fear I'll never again gather enough courage to try becoming the man your heart thinks I already am.”

Tony stilled upon hearing that strange, distressed, plea. He may not have grown any wiser as to why Loki needed to see the holy Feather-ball Of Doom so suddenly, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd live to regret it if he didn't allow his Cupcake to do whatever he wanted to do to that bird.  
“Fine! Whisk us down to my lab, will you? I've got him in the corner of my 'junk' table, stuffed inside the camouflaged cage I built for him.”

Loki almost choked on the strangled bark of laughter that managed to make it past his lips, but he said nothing at all, too busy gathering Tony in his arms and magicking them down to the lab to bother disparaging the sometimes in-famous Stark hospitality.

Tony could hear the ruckus that their sudden appearance had inspired the bird to make as soon as they landed, but it took a terse reassurance to J.A.R.V.I.S that he really was cool with having him drop the camouflaging features of the cage in Loki's presence before either of them could actually set eyes on the raven.

The thing was literally plastered against the wall closest to Loki, right claw raised in a doomed attempt to touch him and beady, black, eyes fixed intently upon him. Tony tried to step between them, unconsciously determined to shield his Bluebell from the crow's unnerving scrutiny, but the god sidestepped him neatly and glided hesitantly forwards, approaching both cage and bird one reluctant step at a time.

The holy chicken seemed to freeze between one blink and the next. It didn't dare to move a single inky feather, but its eyes, those eyes that were so deep, so dark, and filled to the brim with such human-like longing that it pained Tony to see it, followed Loki's every step forwards as if the very fate of the universe depended on it doing so.

“Father.” Loki whispered in faintly disbelieving greeting, coming to a wary stop a mere footstep away from the table, and Tony's throat became two sizes too small when he heard the pitiful whimper the crow cawed in response. “What are you still doing here? Why haven't you sent Huginn's consciousness back where it belongs?”

Tweety tried to shrug its shoulders, clearly aiming for nonchalance, but the motion kind of sucked on a bird. It just wasn't indifferent enough to pull off a convincing insouciant look and Tony noticed the very instant Odin realized that because the bird's massive chest shrunk on itself like a deflating balloon. Tiny, beady, eyes zeroed on Loki's bracelet in the next instant, staring right at it with the kind of angry confusion that Tony just knew would be directed his way in the next second. _'Oh,_ _hell..._ _'_

Loki's gaze followed the bird's, so weirdly attuned to its every little twitch that Tony couldn't understand how it was possible for father and son to be so out of sync with each other when they clearly could have what must be the bitchiest of emotionally draining conversations while one of them was being magically tortured and the other not only wasn't even really 'there', but also couldn't utter a single fucking word on top of that.  
“Anthony tells me that you wish to rip the magic of the cuff asunder. He says you've helped him perfect a 'key' meant to unlock it altogether. It doesn't make any sense, father. Why accept now what you wouldn't even consider a handful of weeks ago? Why act at all, when you could have so easily…?'”

The crow managed to halt Loki's questioning mid-word with a sudden, brutal, thump of its huge foot against the cage's wall, sharp claws scrapping viciously against the glass for good measure. The Reindeer inhaled sharply in response. Rigid shoulders tensing so much that Tony literally ached to go over there and hug him to death, or drag him the hell out of the room before he crumbled entirely. Before he broke altogether.  
“You don't have to do this now, babe. Hell, you don't have to do this, ever. I'm sorry I pushed you into it. I really am. Maybe we should scamper somewhere else. Just you and me, with no magic bird in sight. What say you, beautiful?” He managed to babble, trying to tempt Loki away, but Frosty simply shook his dark head and kept on looking at the bird with his heart in his eyes.

“I'm going to do us both one last favor and listen to a man wiser than us, father. I'm about give you the last chance I'll ever grant you: I will return to Asgard and allow you to remove this cuff yourself if, and only _if,_ whoever you send to escort me back carries with him an invitation, signed by your own hand, granting Anthony permission to accompany me on my visit. I shall not return otherwise, either now or ever after. And I want you to understand that, should you choose to ignore this olive branch, I will forsake your name altogether, whether you allow it or not. I will pay whatever price the Norns demand from me in return for the purge of every last claim you've ever placed upon my person. Loki Nornson will be born then, and your outcast second child will be no more. This I swear upon the blood running through my veins, Allfather.”

Tony's breath hitched as the raven's powerful claw scratched the glass wall once again. The feather-duster looked both sick to the soul and oh-so-very-grateful at the same time that Tony didn't know whether to feel sorry for it or not, and he didn't have enough time to make up his mind, either, because Loki kept on talking:

“Anthony will release you in a second, and I… I shall wait here to see what you make of your last chance, Odin Borson. Do not fear unjust ridicule, for I seek not your humiliation. You don't have to confess what you've done before mother and Thor. I will allow you to remove the cuff in private, if that is your wish. I don't want a grand apology, father. I realize I've never been the child you both wanted and deserved, but I-I just… I won't ever be like Thor. And I'm tired of trying. I think it's time for you to either cast me away altogether or learn to accept who I am. I can no longer allow myself the idiocy of forsaking my own needs in favor of pursuing yours. I can't keep casting myself away because then I'll always be nobody, father. And I'd rather be nothing of yours than no one at all.”

**TBC**

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

****Wooing The Trickster. Chapter 17.****

Tony couldn't remember a time when he hadn't traveled. He'd been the only offspring of a globe-trotting businessman and the jet-setting trophy-wife he'd acquired for the sole purpose of putting his many rivals' equally jet-setting trophy-wives to shame.

Traveling, like engineering, was in Tony's blood. He'd visited every visitable pile of dust on Earth at least a hundred times over, and quite a few of the non-visitable ones as well. He'd gone on planes, trains, buses, motorbikes, racing cars, tanks, the Quinjet, submarines, bicycles, skate boards, horses, donkeys, camels, elephants, and even -when he'd been left with absolutely no other option but to stop whining about the lack of transport and suck it- on foot.

Tony had traveled far and wide, he'd gone up in the air and out to outer space -all right, all right, so he'd done that last one very briefly and via an honest to goodness armed nuke, of all things, but he'd done it, nevertheless.- Tony had also traveled down into the sea and burrowed beneath the surface of the earth, visiting caves and mines and tunnels that went on forever. He'd traveled while awake, asleep, half drunk, on drugs, rutting like a maniac inside one willing body or another and, once his Iron Man gig had started, he'd even traveled while wounded and also under the steam of his own amazing suit.

Although it was more than fair to say that Tony Stark had seen -and done- it all when it came to taking the old road trip, the truth was that he'd never gone off-planet before. Or traveled via magic that wasn't strictly made-in-Loki, so to speak. He'd never been granted the title of 'Most Honored Midgardian Ambasador' via gold-embossed royal decree, no less, signed -not stamped- by an honest to goodness space alien king/god of everything, and been issued an invitation to enter a different 'realm' altogether. He'd never had his not so inconsiderable luggage magicked off into one of Loki's mysterious 'pockets' so that he didn't even have to bother carrying his own laptop bag through both the departures security checks and the VIP lounge. And he'd definitely never traveled before with an entourage of what must be the ten most surly members of the Alldaddy's royal guard via an actual, real, physically _there_ Einstein-Rosen bridge.

To say that Tony had enjoyed the trip as much as any five year old kid would have enjoyed catching a glimpse of Father Christmas was to put it mildly. Yep. Tony had positively adored every single, lovely, second of his first Rainbow Bridge ride. He'd been glowing with delighted glee right until the moment his head stopped spinning long enough for him to catch his first glimpse of what passed for the arrivals terminal, here in Vikingland, and the imposing figure of the hulking, gold-armored, bison-wannabe who manned it all.  
“You must be the Holy Peeping Tom.” Tony greeted the dude on autopilot, busy as he was trying to catch the gaze of his too-quiet-for-his-peace-of-mind Reindeer through the veritable mass of guards who were currently not so subtly arranging themselves between them, wall style.

“Anthony Edward Stark. Hero of Midgard. Comrade of Thor. Son of Howard. Welcome to Asgard.” Sir Peep-a-lot boomed pompously from his perch on the podium-like thingy he was standing on, managing to ruffle Tony's distracted feathers in under one second flat.

“Hmmm. Don't care much for either the Son of Howard or the Hero of Midgard stuff, Goldenhorns. Can't object much to the Comrade of Thor title, but you sort of forgot the big one, buddy, which is rather odd since you're so all-seeing and all. Just saying.” Tony growled, having decided that _'yep,_ _I_ _don't like this dude at all,'_ the second he turned towards the guy and caught the little moue of distaste that scrunched up Peep-a-ton's nose as soon as he looked at Loki.

To be fair, Tony hadn't expected to like this Heim-what's-his-name much to start with. He'd hated the guy's guts while the gatekeeper had been nothing more than the nebulous mega spy whose ability to see all/know all had driven Loki to release the bracelet's curse. But Tony liked Gold-from-head-to-toes even less now that he'd caught him, literally, with the nose in the pie dough. He couldn't believe the fucking asshole had the actual balls of giving him the 'welcome to Asgard' speech without bothering to acknowledge either Loki's presence in the room or Tony's own relationship with the Bluebell. _'Woa! The sheer cheek on this bastard_ _is 100% un-be-lie-va-ble_ _.'_

“And what, may I ask, is the big title I've missed, Comrade of Thor?” Peeping Tom Extraordinaire asked him, punctiliously polite, in the same kind of out of this world, don't-give-a-shit-what-you-think-of-me-and-my-opinions-because-I-despise-you-too rudeness that was Tony's own calling card back home, out here, and every-fucking-where he happened to be.

 _'Oh, yes, this is go_ _nna_ _be my favorite kind of blood-bath, buddy,_ _because there's no one rudder than me._ _Not even you_ _.'_ Tony thought rebelliously, flashing the bastard his most winning smile to sweeten the saccharine-laden reply that shot out of his mouth:  
“There's no need to be shy on my account, Big-bro. I know you know what goes on between my sheets so call me Tony Stark, Lover of Loki, if you must call me something, for I'm my lover's lover before I'm my planet's hero. Or my father's son. Or a comrade's comrade. I'm Loki's first and foremost, buddy. Isn't that how love works around here, too, or has the warrior brain inside your heads made you all somehow deficient in matters of the heart?”

“Anthony!” Loki's strangled admonishment sounded more shocked than wholehearted and Tony didn't even try to swallow his amused chuckle as he stomped on the boot-encased toes of the nearest guard with his Stark-tech enhanced heel, forcing the bastard to move out of his way before he poked the next one aside. And the next one, shamelessly taking full advantage of the guards' obvious reluctance to set so much as a fingertip on the Alldaddy's 'Most Honored Midgardian Ambassador' until he found himself close enough to his precious Reindeer to get hold of his pale hands in a gesture that dripped with protective adoration.

“Don't get huffy with me, Peaches. I didn't fling that warrior brain barb in your direction and you know it. You're more slender warlock than beefy battering ram, after all. And I have it on good authority that you're the least defective alien of my acquaintance in the love-them'-with-all-you've-got department.”

Loki laughed for the first time since they'd set foot on whatever the hell the aliens called this joint, turning pink from neck to ears but neither denying Tony's claim nor shaking off his touch. Loki's gorgeous green gaze lost its slightly haunted look in the next second, brightening and softening into the gentle fondness that Tony knew his Buttercup reserved just for him.  
“I see you plan to shock Asgards' citizens at every opportunity, beloved, and I understand why you feel compelled to do so, but there is one within this realm who does not deserve so harsh a treatment.”

“Your mom is safe from me, Buttercup. I recognize a kindred spirit when I see one and, since she's never needed a rap on the knuckles to remember who you are and treat you accordingly, I see no reason to deliver one.”

“His Royal Majesty, The King Of Asgard, awaits your arrival at the palace, Antony Edward Stark. The Allfather waits for no man.”

“Gosh! The more you talk the less I like you, Golden-eyes.” Tony growled, whirling around to glare at the annoying bastard through the mass of guards that still flanked him. “Is there any particular reason why you haven't addressed my better half, so far?  He's a royal something or other, too, you know?  He's the stuff of crowns and thrones twice over, by what I've heard, and correct me if I'm wrong, Heim-blah, but wasn't he your rightful king once?  A king you betrayed?  I'd bet your ridiculously gaudy horns that he shouldn't be awaiting a bona fide traitor's acknowledgment, either.”

Even before the guards had finished shifting restlessly around Tony in disheartened reaction to the threat inherent in Tommy boy's livid fury, Loki's quiet words cut through the rising tension like a hot blade slicing through butter.  
“You shouldn't address Asgard's gatekeeper so, Anthony. He's the first line of diplomacy this realm possesses while we are but temporary visitors in this land. Good breeding alone demands we treat him with the kind of grace and respect that you have, so far, failed to grant him.”

A veritable cloud of nasty titters exploded across the room, accompanying the cruel smirks that curled the lips of every asgardian within earshot and Tony's fury shifted focus as the worst sense of betrayal he'd experienced since Loki had decided to reward him for his 'effort' took root inside his chest.  
“And why in the name of science should I show this piece of shit a single ounce of respect when he hasn't shown you any?” He challenged the Bluebell bluntly, poking a peeved finger in the center of the sorcerer's lean chest.

“You should do it because what he does reflects solely upon his character, just as what we do exposes us for who we truly are.”

“That's no excuse for his rudeness, Babe.“

“I was not trying to excuse Heimdall's behavior, beloved. I was simply trying to explain it. We all become who we are due to both our station in life and the experiences that shape us. I can freely shower both grace and respect upon others because I posses them both in uncommon quantities. I am the son of a Queen, Anthony. And you are the man I have chosen, whereas Heimdall—well. He is only a gatekeeper.”

The guards' amused chuckles died the fastest death ever, cut at the root by the pure beauty of Loki's elegantly delivered verbal slap. Tony could have kissed his Smurf's perfectly polite, oh-so-evil lips into next Thursday if the most obnoxious ray of light he'd ever had the unwelcome experience of being blinded by hadn't chosen that very second to flash all over the place.

The light show ended with the thunderous clatter created by every single one of the armor-wearing Joes that surrounded them falling to their knees in double quick time. Tony barely had enough time to try blinking away the neon-colored spots dancing in front of his eyes when Loki dropped to his knees too, puling on his wrist to guide him into doing the same. He huffed with indignation at the implied submission in the move but followed Frosty's lead regardless, and that was the only reason why Earth's one and only genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and all around amazing lover of trickster gods caught his very first sight of the Holy Cyclops while kneeling like a recalcitrant child on the floor of Asgard's arrivals terminal.

“Your Majesty.“ Heimdall greeted the old man, failing epically to hide his surprise at the king's obviously unscheduled arrival.

“You will be silent!” The Alldaddy roared, all ferocious glare, hovering twin crows, floor bashing spear, and the kind of full on armor that no dude of Tony's acquaintance would ever bother wearing to go to what amounted to their own foyer. “I've heard one deliberately delivered half truth and enough outright falsehoods uttered within these walls in the last seconds to make me both heartsick and wholly ashamed.”

“I never uttered a falsehood, Your Majesty.”

“Not all falsehoods must be spoken, Heimdall. Unwarranted disrespect can be as vile a lie as the fact that you believe yourself entitled to humiliate one of your betters through your refusal to acknowledge him. You allowed mere warriors to laugh at both a prince of this realm and his honored companion. What's worse, your lack of respect drove my son to utter the most painful half truth he's spoken within my hearing since he was sent down to Midgard. Loki Odinson you are no mere child of a queen. You are the son of a king. And this is neither the throne room nor a formal ceremony, so do not dare kneel before your father a single second longer.”

Loki's entire body turned to stone beside Tony's. Rock Of The Ages was clearly reeling at both his dad's unexpected arrival and rare defense and, judging by the way his thin lips pressed together upon hearing the king's last command, he was also considering flipping the old man the bird in front of his recently cowed minions for daring to address him as his son.

Tony sighed under his breath, wondering how in hell he'd ended up buried neck-deep in the middle of so much family melodrama when he'd painstakingly taught himself to perform the fastest vamoose trick north of Texas as soon as his specially trained nose caught its first, icky, whiff of the dammed stuff. Was the Cyclops really unaware of how much Loki despised being the center of attention?  Or feeling cornered, for that matter?  Had the man/god/viking/alien bastard honestly forgotten that he'd banished his own kid to a 'realm' they considered backwards without so much as a by-your-leave, and then shackled him with a cursed piece of jewelry that was slowly KILLING him, just to mess with his love life?  Had Odin really forgotten that his kid wasn't really _his_ at all, and was currently in the middle of the 'I-was-adopted' existential crisis with a side dish of cold-blooded patricide and a failed, evil-kidnapper/brainwash-and-torture-induced spot of realm conquering thrown in?

“Get up, Blueberry, please. Don't do what you're thinking of doing and just—get the hell up, for heavens' sake!  You can call him on his shit later, OK?” Tony hissed under his breath, subtly poking Loki on the side with the hope of startling him into motion.

Somber green eyes looked right at him, and Tony could see within their depths his Reindeer's outrage-fueled decision to disobey the order he'd been given, consequences be damned. Tony knew what Loki was thinking. He could read it, clear as water, in the Bluebell's mutinous expression and his patently obvious failure to raise to his feet so far. Obeying Odin's request would set Loki apart from everyone around him. It would put him on a level with the king himself, elevating him above every kneeling minion, Peeping Tom included, and proclaiming him to be exactly who he was, no matter how much he denied it: he was favored, honored and beloved regardless of how often the Big Big'un had failed to show his affection or how limp-wristed his attempts to do so may have seemed when he'd managed it.

In obeying the king's command his Reindeer would be acknowledging before witnesses that he was both his father's son and his brother's brother. Submitting to the Alldaddy's wishes would allow the Asgardian Top Of Them All to win this battle he'd fought so weakly not through proper 'effort,' but trough the fine art of knowing exactly how to issue a well placed demand and how to play the dirty game of emotional manipulation with flawless mastery. _'You're right,_ _babe_ _. You're dammed right. But you can't_ _afford to_ _humiliate_ _the_ _wily_ _king of Asgard_ _by refusing to rise either,_ _and he knows it. He fucking knows i_ _t_ _._ _The bastard._ _'_

Loki snorted so delicately that Tony blinked, unable to decide whether his Buttercup had managed to read his mind and was laughing at the very idea that Tony could think _him,_ The Liesmith himself, so easily trapped by his dad's cheesy attempt at manipulation or had simply sneezed at that second by pure coincidence.  
“My companion isn't used to being in the presence of such exalted company, Your Majesty. I have given him my word that I shall guide him through the court's protocol with my own actions until the moment of our departure. I most humbly beg from Your Gracious Self granted leave to follow through on such avowal, for I harbor no desire to become a liar in Anthony's eyes when it can be so easily avoided.” Loki finally said, showing no intention whatsoever of wishing to relinquish his kneeling position, but offering the king a token chance to save face if he wanted to take it.

Tony's breath hitched and his gut roiled uncomfortably as he waited for the 'I-hate-being-thwarted' kingly tantrum to end all 'I-hate-being-thwarted' kingly tantrums out there. He'd cast a wary glance around, wondering how his viking warrior repelling suit -A.K.A The God Crusher- would do out of the lab and even went as far as tapping restless fingertips against the suit-summoning bracelets hidden discreetly under the cuff of his shirt in preparation for the instant his unhappy looking Cyclops-in-law decided to blast his butt right off his precious Asgard, godnap the Reindeer into the bargain, lock him up in a tower somewhere until Tony himself had died of either old age or a frustrated thunderbolt up the ass, and be done with the entire mess in full autocratic bastard style. The Allfather chuckled, though. He sounded both mildly disappointed and sort of fondly proud of having a mouthy kid who gave him verbal, bird-flipping sass, but nowhere near as mad as Tony had expected him to be. Definitely nowhere near as mad as he'd been with sir Peep-a-lot.

“I have no desire to make a liar out of you, Loki. Not in the eyes of your chosen and not in the eyes of anyone you've decided to bless with the gift of your honesty. Your Anthony has no reason to courtsy before me outside official matters of royal protocol.”

Loki looked positively thunderstruck.  
“You have the honest intention of treating my _male,_ _mortal,_ lover as an Honored Ambassador, then?  I assumed the title was pure mockery on your part.”

“I mock you not, my son. Why would I treat your mortal lover any differently than I've treated your brother's equally mortal lover?  This midgardian holds your heart in his hands, does he not?  Therefore he also holds a position in Asgard that no one has occupied during your lifetime so far, Loki.”

“You speak such fine words now, Your Majesty, yet you failed to produce them the last time we spoke about this. His Highness, The Crowned Prince Of Asgard, was never gifted with the pretty little bauble you so kindly bestowed upon me, was he?  In view of that, please forgive my lack of faith in your newfound willingness to acknowledge both Anthony's existence and the nature of our relationship.”

“I hadn't quite grasped the depth of your attachment to the mortal at the time, Loki. I acted out of fatherly concern, and I—I made a mistake, son. And now I'm apologizing. Are you so determined to deny me the chance to do so that you'd fail to raise beside your chosen, refuse to claim your place above both guards and gatekeeper as is your birthright, and deny me the pleasure of escorting you home to your waiting mother's embrace?”

“I will never make my mother wait to hold me, Sire. Not when circumstances beyond our control have kept us apart for so long.” Loki said quietly as he finally rose, dragging Tony up with him. They stood side by side among a sea of kneeling asgardians for an interminable second, square shoulders brushing together and hands locked in a tangle of white-knuckled fingers and sweaty palms; two sets of wary eyes studying the Allfather with equal distrust.

“You make a fine pair, I must say. Both stubborn, resourceful, and too proud for your own good. Both intelligent beyond your years and deeply wounded by peer bullying and parental neglect when you shouldn't have been.” The king pointed out in the end, breaking the stalemate with the kind of gentle tactfulness that Tony would have never in a million years imagined he was capable of.

“Now you see him, then, old man.” Tony shot acidly in reply before he thought better of it, and only realized what he'd called the King Of Kings to his wrinkled face when the outraged gasps of the men still kneeling around him drove the fact home with a bang. He flinched minutely in place and tapped The God Crusher's bracelets once more, ready to deal with the furious explosion of how-dare-yous and I'll-kill-you-where-you-stand-mortals that never came his way. Loki tensed right beside him, pale fingertips glowing green for the brief second it took Odin to respond with a thoroughly rueful chuckle and a small shake of his head.

“I have always seen my son, Lover of Loki. I just made the grievous mistake of failing to show him that I did; of refusing to ever acknowledge that there are those within this realm who are unwilling to do so. Despite what my actions so far may have led everyone to believe, the truth is that I never wanted two Thors. Or two Lokis, for that matter. I just wanted one of each.”

**TBC**

 


End file.
